Semper Invicta
by Dark Cryo
Summary: The appearance of a mysterious gate in Jacinto City gives the battered COG something it hasn't had in years: a second chance, and a place to begin anew. But does salvation for the people of one world spell doom for those of another? (Will update when I get my Gears mojo back & rework some plot points.)
1. The Jacinto Incident

**Semi-Mandatory Disclaimer:** **I do not own either** ** _Gate_** **or** ** _Gears of War_** **. If I did, Rory would look more grown up and Ben Carmine would've survived until at least the end of Act III.**

 **Author's Notes:** **I don't even know why I bother continuing to try and write sometimes. (sigh) Anyway, I'm going entirely off of the anime series, but I've heard a thing or two about the manga that I'd like to incorporate in some way. This story will revolve around a team of OC Gears; sorry to anyone who was expecting Delta Squad, but their personalities and motivations just wouldn't mesh well with the atmosphere. Additionally, the focus of the story won't revolve around any one person in particular – each main character will have their day in the limelight at some point or another.**

 **Now then, without further ado, bring on the carnage.**

* * *

 **(Jacinto City, two weeks after Lightmass Offensive)**

"Daddy, why do you have to join the army? You said you hated the COG for abandoning us…"

Outside a recruiting center in one of Jacinto's poorer districts, a young girl tugged on her father's sleeve when it looked like he hadn't paid any attention to her question. The line of people stretched well beyond the front door; the chances of the small family finishing up their business here any time soon grew smaller by the minute.

The girl's father sighed in resignation, reaching down to tousle her long raven hair. She was a skinny thing, dressed in a tattered blue sweatshirt and old trousers held together by patchwork and prayers. His wife, equally disheveled in appearance, crossed her arms and glared daggers at the sign over the recruiting center. It seemed like she still hadn't forgiven him for what he was about to do. He didn't blame her.

"We've been over this before, Isabel. If Daddy becomes a Gear, then you and your mother will have plenty of food and a place to live. Besides," he smiled reassuringly at his daughter, "now that the monsters are gone, nothing bad will happen to me whenever I get deployed. You don't have to worry."

Isabel nodded, not quite convinced, but not objecting either. She averted her gaze to look out into the street.

The girl's father sighed again, then checked to see if the line had progressed much. It hadn't.

Like it or not, Operation Lifeboat was the best and only chance for many of the Stranded families lucky enough to make it to Jacinto; there just wasn't enough food and housing left in the city to accommodate the basic needs of everyone living there. Gears, he'd heard, received extra rations both for themselves and their loved ones. And it was still a better option than squatting in the ruins of Ephyra – even if the Kryll were now supposedly extinct. If his family's survival depended on him joining Prescott's army of fascist scum, then so be it.

As her father stewed in his thoughts, he completely missed how Isabel's attention was now fixated on something else. Something was materializing out of thin air further down the street. Something very big…

* * *

"I can't believe that after all that's happened recently, I'm still stuck on the same monotonous patrol route." Chief Warrant Officer Akira Yanagida griped as he made his way down one of Jacinto's many alleyways. "You'd think that after the bombing, the Chairman would've made more of an effort to permanently secure Ephyra, but no! Instead of sending us to do something worthwhile, we're right back where we started! Ugh, of all the ignorant- Dalton, are you even listening?!"

Private Alec Dalton stopped humming to himself and nodded to his patrol partner. "Yeah, I get what you're saying. Maybe you could ask for a transfer? I'm sure High Command wouldn't mind if you said you'd rather be out killing stray grubs."

Much had changed for the human race in the weeks following the now-famous Lightmass Offensive. For the first time in the fourteen years since Emergence Day, the Coalition of Ordered Governments led their Gears on a successful mission to deliver a bomb of unimaginable power to the doorstep of the dreaded Locust Horde. While nobody had the exact numbers, the casualties inflicted on the subterranean monsters and their beasts of war must have been astronomical, since few confirmed Locust sightings were reported over the next several days. The only thing resembling an organized counterattack had been an assault on the agricultural depot at North Gate one week ago; even then, the Locust failed to cause much damage.

However, instead of capitalizing on their victory by driving out the remaining Locust, the COG had withdrawn most of their army back to the safety of Jacinto, along with many of their land and air vehicles for refuel and repair. Personally, Alec had his doubts about that decision – but hey, he was only a private. Who was he to argue with the ones in charge?

Apparently Yanagida shared those same doubts. The two Gears were deployed to a quieter front of Ephyra during the battle; sure, guarding an evacuation route for wounded soldiers and rescued civilians was important, but the Locust seemed content to leave that part of the city alone for whatever reason. Now that most of the former capital was just as deserted, what was stopping the COG from doing more?

Yanagida snorted under his helmet as they rounded a corner. "What, and risk getting torn apart by a surviving Berserker? No thank you. I'd be much happier using my smarts and giving out orders than being sent to the frontlines."

"I don't think I'd be able to handle that kind of responsibility," Alec admitted. "Me personally, I just wish I could've done more to help, you know? I was kind of expecting more from my first deployment. Instead I can count the number of grubs I killed on one hand."

The pair of soldiers were approaching a small market area in one of the city's former commercial districts, now mostly repurposed as a residential area for refugees from all across Sera. As they made their way over to a sandwich shop, Yanagida pulled his helmet off and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Ugh… I don't understand how anyone can stand wearing these things for more than an hour. Dalton, would you mind finishing up the route? You know nothing ever happens on these patrols, and I could _really_ use a glass of iced tea right about now."

The younger Gear shrugged. "Only if I get to stop by the comic book store along the way."

"Hmph. Fine, but don't get caught up in your little fantasy world for too long." Yanagida gave him a brief nod before disappearing inside the store, leaving Dalton to continue down the street alone.

He didn't mind, if he had to be honest. For all his intelligence, the warrant officer was a very vocal complainer, and this wasn't the first time they'd had this particular conversation while on patrol. Dalton wished Yanagida would get the promotion he dreamed of sometime soon. Maybe then he'd be partnered up with someone a bit more positive.

The private shook his head, pausing for a moment to check the safety on his Lancer assault rifle. Enough thinking about that. The comic book store was only a few blocks away, and he really, _really_ hoped that Skeeter finally managed to acquire Issue #28 of _Ice Angel_.

 _I know it's hard to get new comics these days, but c'mon! I HAVE to find out what happens in the long-awaited confrontation with Gurp the Living Toxin!_ Dalton thought giddily.

Ever since he was a child, Alec Dalton had a huge love of comic books. The colorful pictures and plentiful action captivated him instantly; during recess at preschool, while the other kids played out in the yard, Alec would contentedly sit in a corner, watching with rapt attention as superheroes fought evil villains for control of the planet. In fact, he'd learned to read fluently by the time he was five simply because he wanted to better understand what was happening in each issue he collected.

Even now, as a twenty-two-year-old Gear in the Coalition of Ordered Governments Army, his obsession hadn't diminished in the slightest. He was more than willing to trade a few ration bars for whatever new reading material the store owner could get his hands on.

"Maybe I should check and see if Rudy's favorite manga is in stock," Dalton thought out loud. He received a few odd stares from passing civilians, but the young soldier didn't pay them any mind. "Or does he even have a favorite? All manga looks the same to me. Should probably ask Skeeter for a recommendation."

He approached a busier intersection in the direction of downtown Jacinto, checking for traffic before crossing the street ahead. Morale had greatly improved for the city's residents in the aftermath of the Lightmass Offensive, he'd noticed. With the Locust defeated, at least temporarily, the COG turned its focus on getting the human race back on its feet – a few new farms had sprung up on the route between Jacinto and Ephyra, and there were reports that some of the Stranded gangs inhabiting the ruins of Tyrus' former capital were offering to trade supplies as a show of gratitude for driving the grubs away.

For the first time in over fourteen years, there was hope for the people of Sera. They no longer felt the need to run away whenever the Locust Horde made their presence known. The bombing at Timgad was proof that the COG held a chance of winning this war; that the human race wasn't fighting until the end, but fighting to see a tomorrow.

As Dalton neared the alley leading to the comic store, he reflected on how life, at least for the moment, was pretty good.

* * *

Isabel held her mother's hand tightly, her wide brown eyes transfixed on the mysterious, monumental structure occupying what had once been a deserted four-way intersection. All around her, Stranded and COG citizens alike pointed and spoke in hushed, awed whispers; each of them wondering just what this structure was and where it came from.

It was massive in height – at least three stories tall – and bore an eerily odd resemblance to the entrance of a mausoleum. Pillars of chiseled marble supported by lengths of blue crystal held the roof of the structure aloft. Most notably, an ominous, pitch black void led into the yawning chasm of the interior – only a tiny sliver of light could be seen at the other end.

It reminded her of the light at the end of the tunnel her mother claimed people saw when they died and went to Heaven. Maybe this led to Heaven? Would she be able to see her other family again?

Isabel listened closer to hear some of the adults' whispered voices.

"That wasn't there a second ago, was it?"

"Is this some kind of E-Hole? Is it a Locust trick?"

"How is that light reaching so far back?"

"None of this makes any sense!"

A shrill, high-pitched shriek from inside the structure turned the onlookers' focus back to the darkness. Suddenly, without any further warning, a massive winged reptile erupted forth from the gate.

Isabel screamed.

* * *

Alec Dalton once again found himself humming as his destination came into view. He'd been hoping to decide what to get by now in case Issue #28 still wasn't in stock, but came up blank. Maybe today would just be a browsing sort of day.

He began to reach for the shop's door handle when an absolutely inhuman cry pierced the air around him.

* * *

Back at the site of the mausoleum-like structure, the citizens of Jacinto City stared in total shock at what had come from beyond the veil of darkness within the gate.

An army of human men, dressed in red tunics and heavy plate armor reminiscent of the kind dating back to the Silver Era, gazed at the assembled crowd with unreadable expressions. Most of them were armed with equally archaic weaponry: longswords, spears, and large tower shields; archers and cavalrymen mounted atop armored horses were also visible within their ranks. A few of the mysterious soldiers carried banners displaying unfamiliar insignias.

What startled the crowd the most, however, were the non-humans. Many dark-skinned creatures of varying ugliness stood between the citizens and the foreigners, armed with crude swords, clubs, and axes. Several of them growled and bared pointed teeth at the onlookers, as if daring them to attack. Beyond even that, more of those strange draconic animals continued to swoop up out of the gate and into the open sky, ridden by humans equipped with gigantic lances.

For a few seconds, both groups simply stared at one another.

Someone in the foreign army blew what sounded like a horn, and with a loud battle cry from the medieval soldiers, the massacre began.

* * *

"What the-?" Private Dalton looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar winged creature passing overhead, right before it disappeared behind a nearby rooftop. Seconds later, more unfamiliar roars and bellows echoed down the empty alley he was in, soon accompanied by the most chilling sound he'd ever heard: the screams of panicked civilians.

The young Gear's eyes dilated under his helmet. For a brief moment, memories of Emergence Day, delicately locked away in the years since the incident, flooded to the surface of his mind:

 _Fire/Smoke/Blood/Screams/What's happening/Where's dad/Hide in the cellar, Alec/They won't get you/I won't let them/I love you-_

Alec bolted down the worn pavement, Lancer already in hand.

Had it happened? Had the Locust finally breached the granite under Jacinto? If they did, then the remaining human population of Sera was in very, _very_ big trouble.

But that couldn't be the case, could it? The Lightmass bomb had crippled the grubs severely; they couldn't have reorganized in such a short amount of time! If they hadn't, then what the hell was happening?!

Alec emerged onto the open street… and immediately got his answer.

Everywhere he looked were humanoid monsters. It was obvious at first glance that they weren't Locust; if he had to make an assumption, he thought they looked more like goblins and trolls from some of the few fantasy-themed comics he owned.

The creatures relentlessly chased after fleeing civilians – smashing, hacking, and utterly eviscerating every helpless person within melee range. He even saw a pig-like monster curl up and crash into an unsuspecting woman like an out-of-control pinball.

What made the scene even stranger was that they were backed up by – Alec blinked twice to confirm what he was seeing – human beings with swords, shields, and metal armor. He rapidly ducked back into the alleyway after watching a man get skewered by an arrow.

 _Oh SHIT! Oh shit oh shit oh shit, what the actual FUCK is happening right now?! It's like E-Day all over again, but… but these aren't Locust!_ Dalton took some deep breaths to try and calm himself down. _I… I don't know what to do. I have no idea how to handle this! I don't know how I should- Oh shit! Yanagida!_

As if by coincidence, Yanagida's voice suddenly crackled to life over Dalton's comm system, causing the Gear to yelp and nearly have a heart attack.

 _"_ _Dalton! Private Dalton, do you read me? Alec, pick up!"_ the warrant officer's voice shouted directly into his ear.

"I read you, Yanagida!" Dalton responded. "What the hell is this? Who or what is attacking us?!"

Akira's voice remained composed, even over the sound of distant gunfire on his end. " _I don't know, but right now that's not important. What IS important is getting everyone we can to safety! Command has ordered all available Gears to escort civilians to Wrightman Base while they figure out how to push this enemy back! Do you copy, Private?"_

"W-Wilco, sir." God, he hated himself for stuttering just then. "Is there anything else you can tell me about the enemy? Anything I should watch out for?"

 _"_ _How the hell should I know?"_ his superior snapped at him. _"If I were you, I'd try to avoid the flying ones if I could. Other than that, show them as much mercy as they're showing us. Don't make us look bad, Dalton. Yanagida out."_

The line disconnected. The private let out a long, slow breath as he prepared to venture back out onto the streets, giving his Lancer one final check to make sure it was primed and ready.

Innocent people getting slaughtered by unknown monsters… It really was E-Day all over again. Alec vowed that the outcome would end differently this time.

* * *

"Everybody, run! Evacuate to Wrightman Base! I'll hold them off!"

Bursts of rifle fire in the enemy's direction punctuated Alec's statement.

Half an hour had passed since he'd joined the urban firefight in humanity's last bastion. The streets of Jacinto presented a scene of utter chaos: over two dozen of the invaders' fresh corpses were intermingled with the bodies of civilians, courtesy of his Lancer, though it did little to stave off the current assault. Behind him, a few civvies who knew the location of the base took advantage of Dalton's distraction to help guide other survivors away from the carnage.

He ejected the spent magazine from his rifle, wasting no time before inserting a fresh one and continuing to fire, all the while making a steady retreat to a nearby three-way intersection. Five more of the goblin-things fell screaming under a hail of gunfire.

The human soldiers in their ranks shouted something in an unfamiliar language and raised their shields in an attempt to defend themselves; unfortunately for them, they were also cut down shortly after, their shields and armor reduced to Swiss cheese by a plethora of bullet holes.

What was once a force of more than three dozen invaders had been reduced to eight in only a couple of minutes. Out of desperation, the remaining troops bunched close together and let out a spirited war cry, charging at Dalton as one with their weapons raised. Thinking quickly, the private unclipped a bolo grenade from his belt, tossed it in their direction with a light underhand throw, then ran the opposite way before the boom went off.

Sure enough, a deafening _BOOM_ accompanied by lots of screaming confirmed that the grenade did its job. Alec took a quick look back and grimaced under his helmet. It seemed like the invaders had been right on top of the explosive when it went off. Of the eight attackers, two of them survived, but with multiple limbs blown off; their faces were contorted in agony, crying out as blood spurted from the severed stumps. Nothing was left of the other six except gory piles of meat.

Truth be told, this enemy wasn't really all that hard to fight. They may have had the element of surprise on their side, along with a supplementary force of non-humans, but apparently there was little they could do when pitted against an armed Gear.

There was another street below the intersection he was at. It was only a short drop, so rather than waste time finding stairs, Private Dalton vaulted over the railing, then ducked into a roll to reduce the shock of the landing.

Heh, Yanagida would've yelled at him for doing that.

He briefly analyzed his surroundings, taking in everything he saw. The road ahead was mostly deserted, save for a single female Gear several meters away guarding a small bunch of civvies, along with a single hostile soldier armed with a longsword. He immediately noticed that this Gear was different from most of the others – she was up there in age, probably pushing sixty, with long gray hair tied back in a braided ponytail. Intricate tribal tattoos ran along the length of her bare forearms. She also wore tight black gloves over her hands, which carried an MX8 Snub pistol.

"Back the hell off, you fucking barbarian!" she shouted, aiming her bulky pistol at the foreign soldier. Alec recognized her accent as hailing from the Northern immigrants of the South Islands. "Or else I'll blow yer guts out of your arse!"

The invader either didn't understand her threat or didn't care. He charged at her with a yell, sword raised, but two quick shots from the Snub were enough to incapacitate him. Satisfied that the man was dead, the woman finally seemed to notice Dalton's presence as she holstered her pistol.

Her sharp blue eyes locked onto him, like a hawk eyeing its prey. She regarded him closely for a few seconds, as if she was sizing him up, before turning her back to him to speak with the terrified civilians she'd been protecting.

Which also meant that she didn't notice when the invader she'd shot earlier slowly staggered back to his feet, bleeding from his torso and clearly in a great amount of pain, but still very much alive. He picked up his discarded longsword and once more ran forward to attack, his furious bellow startling everyone in the small group. The elder Gear made to reach for her Snub again, but it was too late – the sword was already coming down in a diagonal arc.

 _"_ _NO!"_

 _Vroooom…_ CLANG!

The enemy's face widened in shock when Dalton's chainsaw bayonet met his sword head-on.

The sharp teeth of the Lancer's chainsaw threw up angry sparks as it bit into the foreign weapon. Confused and panicking, the warrior adjusted his grip on the longsword, grasping the handle with one hand while the other held onto the sharpened blade itself. It was ultimately a futile attempt to block, however, as proven two seconds later when the chainsaw first cleaved the sword in two – followed by the man's body right afterwards.

Ignoring the blood now coating his armor, Alec turned to face his comrade, panting lightly from the adrenaline in his system. "Are you all right?"

"I am, thanks to you. That was a ballsy move you just pulled off there, kid." The woman grabbed his hand and roughly shook it. For an old lady, she still had quite a bit of spunk left in her. "Much appreciated. I'm Sergeant Bernadette Mataki, but everyone calls me Bernie. You got a name?"

"Private Alec Dalton, ma'am!" The younger Gear instinctually saluted in the presence of a superior. "The district I was patrolling earlier seems to have been successfully evacuated, so I was heading to Wrightman Base to see if my partner also made it. What about you?"

"Same. This is the last bunch of people I was able to find," Bernie answered, gesturing to the now slightly less terrified civilians. "I say we hoof it to base before these fuckwits playin' knight send in reinforcements. Stick close to us, Private."

"Yes, ma'am!" Dalton replied, following along as Bernie and the others began moving down the street.

* * *

Located deep in the heart of Jacinto City, Wrightman Base was originally one of the Coalition's largest hospitals, but was reconverted into a command center shortly after the Locust Horde initially overran the COG's previous headquarters in Ephyra. It was as well-equipped and defended as one could hope for: massive concrete walls surrounded the perimeter of the base, with chain gun turrets placed strategically on the exterior of the hospital's walls to cover any potential vulnerable spots. Inside the walls, hundreds of Gears scurried to their posts; some grabbed weapons and positioned themselves around defended spots in preparation for an enemy advance, others rushed to waiting King Raven helicopters to provide air support and extraction for any survivors left outside, and still others provided security for the lines of civilians trickling into safety.

The lines, Alec noted grimly as he and Sergeant Mataki made their way to the entrance, were moving far too slowly. They'd left the collected refugees at the back of one line, promising that their safety was assured, though deep down the private feared those words might soon become a lie. At this rate, the hostiles would arrive long before the last of the civvies got inside.

"I don't know about you, but I don't think this is the right time for anyone to be moving along in an 'orderly fashion'." He voiced his thoughts out loud to his companion. Bernie, jogging a few paces ahead of him, grunted in agreement.

"The COG loves to keep things organized, even in times of crisis. Fuckin' horseshit if you ask me… Seems like some things haven't changed at all while I was away." The elder Gear grumbled.

When the duo approached the front gate from the side of the lines, they saw a helmetless and irate-looking Gear arguing with one of the guards.

"I don't care what your orders are! We don't have enough time to follow standard evac procedures before the enemy gets here!" Akira Yanagida hollered, his normally pale face red with anger.

"Then what do you suggest, Chief Warrant Officer? These rules were designed with safety in mind. Would you prefer it if everyone just trampled over each other trying to get in?" the guard countered.

Alec, happy and relieved to see his partner safe, piped up before he could offer a rebuttal. "Is that you, Yanagida? Hah! I knew you'd make it!"

"Dalton?" Akira spun around in surprise. "You're still alive?... Good. I knew I could count on you."

"Yeah, well, these guys aren't putting up as much of a fight as the grubs, so…"

Bernie, meanwhile, ignored the reunion between the two youngsters and marched straight over to the guard. Scowling, she jabbed a finger into his armored chest.

"Listen here, kiddo, the Warrant Officer there is right! If we don't get everyone inside these walls _right fucking now_ , there's gonna be a bloodbath out there, and I'll cut yer damn balls off myself if you let it happen! Am. I. _Clear?!_ " The old veteran accentuated her last words with three more pokes to the man's chestpiece.

"And see a rampage the likes of which only happens on Black Friday? Get real, lady!" the guard retorted, forcing Bernie's hand away from him. "I have my orders, and I intend to follow them. If you and those two men want to go inside, that's all fine and dandy, but the refugees have to wait until they're individually cleared. End of story."

The sergeant leaned in close, boring through the guard's helmet with an intense gaze she reserved for assholes who _really_ pissed her off.

"Are you familiar with Colonel Hoffman, kid? Hero of the Pendulum Wars, savior of Anvil Gate, and currently the highest-ranking officer left in the Armed Forces? Who am I bloody kidding; of course you are. Well let me tell you something: my name is Bernadette Mataki, and I'm a _close_ friend of his." She leaned even closer, her expression venomous. "Mark my fucking words, junior: As soon as I get into that base, I'm going to find out where he is, march straight up to him, and tell him that some _shit nugget_ guarding the front gate is willing to let innocent people die because – and I quote – 'he intends to follow orders'."

The scene went deathly quiet all of a sudden. Dalton and Yanagida were both staring at her; while the private's helmet made it impossible to judge his facial reaction, Yanagida's jaw looked like it was about to hit the ground.

"Sergeant… Mataki? She… she's rumored to be the best sniper in the entire army…" the warrant officer stuttered in awe.

"Way to tell him, Bernie!" Dalton encouraged her, giving a friendly wave to his new battle buddy.

The guard, for his part, initially stood his ground in the face of the scary old lady threatening him. Then his whole body trembled and he yelled out to the crowd, "People, in light of recent revelations, we're going to be speeding up entry into the base! Get inside as quick as you can, but please be careful!"

The crowd obeyed, rushing through the open gates in as controlled a fashion as they could manage. Bernie pulled away from the guard and smirked nastily.

"Listen to your elders, kid. It might save your life someday."

* * *

 **(Jacinto Administrative District)**

"There are structures built of brick and marble here…"

"Uhh… sir?"

Commander Vylus glanced over to his subordinate, then focused his attention back to the towering buildings surrounding them – buildings that rivaled even the Imperial palace in their size and grandeur.

Never could he have imagined ending up in a world such as this. Everyone in the army knew they were taking a big risk invading someplace entirely foreign to them, but they also took comfort in the knowledge that they'd never once been defeated in battle. The Imperial army was the finest amalgamation of trained knights, footmen, and other warriors from across the continent; the corpses scattered across the streets of this alien city were a testament to their sheer might and ruthlessness. They were the best of the best.

Which was why Vylus was concerned to see so many of their own soldiers intermixed with the other dead.

This enemy was also human, that much was obvious. But the similarities ended there – the humans of this world spoke a different language, built their roads out of a smoother material than cobblestone, constructed towers that seemed to touch the sky… and had Blue Golems defending them.

Vylus had received scattered reports mentioning strange, armored golems sighted around the city. If the reports were to be believed, they were extremely deadly, able to take out entire squads of Imperial soldiers single-handedly without even moving. He'd dismissed the perceived danger at first, citing that nothing short of a dragon could withstand the power of their army, but soon grew worried as more and more bodies of their fallen comrades were discovered littering the city streets.

That was where he was now: a street covered in corpses, both foreign and familiar; his prized stallion flanked on both sides by Imperial spearmen. His second-in-command, a bald, oafish yet competent and loyal man by the name of Torgal, was by his side on his own horse.

"The way they're constructed… It relieves me to see something familiar. It reminds me of home." He explained to Torgal.

Vylus heard his subordinate shift on his mount. The commander knew how the man must be feeling right now. He felt the same way.

"Do you not feel uneasy?" he asked slowly. "Do you not wonder where we have found ourselves?"

 _Or what might happen to us if we stay here…?_

* * *

 **(Wrightman Base)**

Today was proving to be Emergence Day _and_ his deployment in Ephyra all over again, Alec mused in silent thought. All around the city, the Battle of Jacinto was being waged, and he was once again stuck guarding an evacuation route.

He fired a long burst from his Lancer at a large troll wielding an even larger warhammer. The beast fell dead, but its compatriots were undeterred, charging forward and bellowing even as they were massacred by the base's defenses.

At least he was seeing plenty of action this time. Besides, the helpless people behind the wall were counting on him to defend their lives. As a Gear, it was his sworn duty to protect others, and Private Dalton was happy to serve.

Also…

"C'MON, YOU FILTHY WANKERS! YOU WANT SOME MORE? I'LL FUCKING GIVE YOU MORE! I'LL PISS ON YER DAMN CORPSES! LINE UP AND I'LL SEND YOU ALL STRAIGHT TO HELL!"

…Bernie was a ton of fun to have around.

The sergeant was on the wall directly above him, the steady _boom_ of her Longshot sniper rifle punctuating every vulgar statement she threw at the enemy. Dalton could see why Yanagida was in awe of her sniping skills; every shot she fired blew a hostile's head open like a ripened watermelon. She was even kind enough to aim for the bigger units first, just to save the Gears below her some trouble.

Speaking of Yanagida, he was firing his own Lancer with a murderous expression, shouting something about earning a promotion to avoid having to fight stupid grunt battles like this one and… Yeah, he was fine.

Dalton's assault rifle was running low on ammo, so he switched it out for his Gnasher shotgun and resumed the onslaught. The enemy's forces were thinning – as long as they didn't suddenly pull something crazy, then Wrightman Base was as good as secure.

Almost as if the universe was giving him the middle finger, a distant roar heralded the arrival of two winged creatures High Command had dubbed "wyverns". The beasts were reported to be as durable as they were fast, easily shrugging off any damage from combined small arms fire. Nothing short of armor-piercing bullets or a shot from a Centaur tank could take one down.

 _"_ _Control, this is KR-72. I've spotted two aerial hostiles headed towards Wrightman Base and am moving to engage."_

 _"_ _Copy that, KR-72. Fire at will."_

 _"_ _Control, this is KR-39!_ _Don't start the party without me!"_

Thankfully for the base's defenders, King Ravens came equipped with a lot of armor-piercing bullets.

It had taken longer than anticipated to get the birds airborne, especially since the invasion came as a total surprise, but nobody could deny that the helicopters were an incredibly valuable asset right now. Armed with frontal machine gun turrets and piloted solely by the craziest of enlisted men and women, the King Ravens were doing a damn good job returning air superiority to the COG.

The wyverns screeched a challenge and flew faster at the choppers, but it was no use. The turrets on each Raven soon reduced the pair of flying lizards to chunky salsa.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" Dalton barely heard Bernie over the roar of the birds' rotors.

As the Gears continued to hold off the invading army, Alec picked up more and more comm chatter over his helmet's radio:

 _"_ _Be advised, hostile ranks have broken near Pomeroy Depot and are in partial retreat."_

 _"_ _Attention all units: Enemy forces have been cleared from the southeast port district. Requesting 4_ _th_ _Infantry Battalion to help secure the area."_

 _"_ _Control, this is KR-88. The skies are clear of all hostile air support. Moving to provide covering fire for friendly ground units."_

 _"_ _Roger that, KR-88. Have a nice day."_

"We can win this…" Dalton whispered to himself. From what he'd heard, the enemy's ranks were beginning to fragment all over Jacinto.

He would continue to fight until city's people could walk the streets without fear once more. He swore it.

* * *

 **(Several Hours Later)**

Alec exhaled a long breath, trudging wearily through the mob of civilians still holed up in Wrightman Base's courtyard.

He made it. The battle was over. Every enemy combatant was either dead, captured, or fled back to… wherever the hell they came from. He didn't have a fucking clue, and right now he didn't care. All he knew was that the Coalition of Ordered Governments had emerged victorious over a new, unknown enemy.

Thank _god_ for that. He'd been fighting for what felt like hours; the hostiles sieging their command center had apparently been one of the last enemy forces to break rank and scatter. The young soldier was tired from all the exertion, sore from handling a gun for so long, and really could've used a long nap after everything that transpired today.

But, he couldn't. He still had a job to do. The citizens of Jacinto were safe – for the time being, anyway – but that left High Command with the question of what to do with them now.

With many people either dead or missing in the aftermath of the invasion, their families who made it to shelter risked getting… a little bent out of shape. Dalton's new assignment was to make sure the refugees stayed calm and followed orders.

Nothing particularly noteworthy caught his eye, until he spotted a young, raven-haired girl in a dirty blue sweatshirt standing by herself a few meters away. The girl's brown eyes darted between people in the crowd, and the way she was shaking in place belied her nervousness.

Alec immediately felt sorry for her, deciding that she could use some help. He put his Lancer away and walked over to her.

"What's wrong? Can't find your mom and dad?" he asked gently, kneeling down to face her at eye level.

The girl nodded, blinking back tears.

"What's your name? That way I can ask some of the adults around here if they know your parents."

The girl looked down, clearly discomforted by his questioning. She eventually answered in a tiny voice, "Isabel. M-My name is Isabel…"

"Isabel? That's a pretty name." Alec extended a hand to her. "Tell you what, Isabel. How about you come with me? We can look for your mom and dad together."

Much to his shock, Isabel shook her head and backed away from him.

"I… I can't. You're a Gear, right? That means you work for the COG. Daddy always told me I shouldn't trust anyone from the COG…"

Alec's heart broke more with each word the girl spoke. He'd guessed she was Stranded based on her tattered clothes and skinny frame, but hearing her talk so fearfully about the COG… about _him_ …

Even though the Coalition now had a few victories in their name, humanity as a whole still lived in a wretched world.

He though for a minute about how to best approach this before coming to a conclusion.

"Hey, Isabel." He called to her. The little girl met his gaze, but otherwise didn't move. "What if I told you my name? That way you can tattle on me in case I do something bad. I promise I won't, though."

She seemed to contemplate what he said, then nodded again. Good. This was progress.

The private offered his hand once more. "I'm glad to hear that, Isabel. My name is Alec Dalton. It's good to meet you."

He waited patiently as the young girl shyly approached him. Slowly, tentatively, Isabel reached out and took the Gear's hand in her own.

* * *

 **(Three Days Later)**

"In the face of this disaster…"

A few days had passed since the attack on Jacinto. Alec had to give the Engineering Corps credit – with the bodies already removed and much of the rubble cleared from the streets, life was steadily returning back to normal. He supposed there was an upside to most of civilization being forced to live in one city: things got done pretty quickly when people put their minds to it.

"…this young man, this proud Gear, was active in the evacuation and rescue efforts…"

Man, he hated having to wear a dress uniform. It felt like wearing a suit made of cardboard. Worse, actually; at least cardboard didn't itch this much!

He fought down a sneeze from the scent of copious amounts of fabric softener. Fabric softener that hadn't worked one damn bit.

"…saving the lives of countless civilians, as well as one Sergeant Bernadette Mataki."

All the cameras flashing in his face didn't help, either. His grandmother said he had a handsome face; his grandfather, on the flipside, called it forgettable enough that no one would be able to identify him if he ever robbed a bank. He didn't know who to believe.

The most defining feature of Alec's face was a tiny scar on the tip of his nose that the family cat gave him when he was four years old. Aside from that, he had dark brown hair kept in a buzz cut, blue eyes, and a clean-shaven jawline.

"If not for his bravery and quick thinking, Sergeant Mataki would not be here with us today to celebrate."

Was it really such a great feat that it was worth an award ceremony? He just did what any good soldier would do; no need waste his entire afternoon giving him a medal. All he wanted right now was to check and see if the comic book store was still open.

He wasn't about to say that out loud in front of Chairman Prescott, however. Maybe Hoffman would've understood, but then again, he was a Colonel in the military and not a politician.

"The brave feats of this man, known as the Hero of Jacinto…"

Now this was just getting ridiculous.

"…are the pride of every citizen in the Coalition of Ordered Governments."

Everyone in the audience, except for a certain warrant officer, burst into applause and cheers. Akira Yanagida's eye twitched as he watched the young private get commended for his efforts.

Prescott pulled a small box out of his breast pocket and opened it for everyone to see. "Private Alec Dalton, in recognition of your outstanding service, I hereby promote you to the rank of Corporal. Congratulations, son."

He presented the box, containing a shiny new corporal's badge, to the newly-dubbed Hero of Jacinto.

Alec eyed the offered badge hesitantly, then looked to the eagerly waiting crowd. All of this was happening much too fast for his liking. His grandfather would no doubt be proud to see his little comic book nerd moving up the ranks, but…

The young soldier gulped before speaking. "Mr. Chairman? I'm honored to be receiving this award, don't get me wrong, but… I think you're giving a promotion to the wrong person."

The audience collectively gasped, exploding into a frenzy of questions and confused murmuring.

He heard at least one person accuse him of being an "ungrateful idiot". Alec closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to force away the anger rising in the pit of his stomach. He knew his words would get a mixed reaction, but hearing his name get slandered after everything he'd done recently made his blood boil.

Prescott held a hand up in the public's direction, instantly silencing their chatter, before focusing on Private Dalton with a stern expression.

"Explain."

"It's just that… well…" Dalton fumbled for words. Richard Prescott didn't have to be an enlisted soldier to be intimidating. "It's just… When the attack first began, I was panicking. I was scared out of my mind, had no plan of action, and didn't know how to react to what was going on. I failed to take any initiative… and for that, I'm deeply sorry."

Prescott's face was unreadable. He cleared his throat before continuing, trying hard not to make eye contact with the audience.

"It wasn't until my partner contacted me and gave me an objective did I begin thinking clearly. If it wasn't for him, I probably wouldn't have been there to save Sergeant Mataki's life. He's the one who deserves a promotion – not me."

Dalton's eyes subtly darted over to Yanagida. He managed to smile slightly; the warrant officer's expression couldn't have been more shocked if someone told him that humans were capable of interbreeding with Brumaks.

Chairman Prescott nodded thoughtfully. "Very well, son. Although I can't claim to fully understand your refusal, if this is what you wish, then I'll take your words into consideration. Who is it that you recommend we give this promotion to?"

"Before I answer that, what's the minimum rank needed to get a desk job?"

* * *

 **(The Next Day)**

A copy of the _Jacinto Sentinel_ newspaper slid across the table Alec was sitting at in the mess hall, almost knocking over his bowl of hot soup.

"Alec Dalton, you are the single craziest motherfucker I know. Or maybe the dumbest. Actually, no, you're the craziest _and_ the dumbest… unless you _meant_ to cause such a shit-show. If that's the case, then you're a goddamn genius."

Dalton stopped eating to glance at the paper's headline: _"Hero of Jacinto Passes on Promotion After Unknown Enemy Attack"_.

He sighed, shrugging nonchalantly as his best friend took a seat across from him. "It wasn't my intention to drag this out, Rudy. I'm just not ready for the responsibilities of a corporal, that's all." He paused to spoon in a mouthful of chicken soup. "Besides," he said after swallowing, "we have bigger things to worry about."

"Like the gate?" Rudy asked rhetorically as he slathered butter over his baked potato.

Private Rudolph Gyules was one year Dalton's junior; although the two were similar in age and interests, Alec silently admitted that his fellow soldier was much more gifted when it came to appearances. The combination of blond hair worn in a crew cut, bright green eyes, and a winning smile that melted women's hearts made Rudy an ideal "poster boy" for the Gears.

He was also the biggest (and only) _otaku_ Dalton knew. The guy was into some pretty bizarre things – dragon plushies, translated manga, pillows with questionable drawings on them, and anything else he could get his hands on from the far east that found its way to Jacinto. He wasn't shy about hiding those interests, either; almost everyone on base knew of his hobby, and tended to relocate elsewhere whenever he was around. Indeed, the tables surrounding their own had quickly been vacated when he sat down to join his friend.

Alec labeled them as jerks. Sure, he could be quirky, but Gyules was like a brother to him – even more so after Rudy's own brother died a few weeks ago.

"Yeah. Like the gate." Dalton replied to the earlier question. "I heard the sappers are already busy building a containment dome around it in case those invaders get any more ideas. Where do you think it leads to, anyway?"

"Bro, I have no idea." It was Gyules' turn to shrug. "I mean, we've seen a lot of shit happen over the last fifteen years, y'know? The end of the Pendulum Wars, the rise of the Locust… too much stuff to list off the top of my head. But a big gate appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the city? Science is gonna have a hard time explaining that one."

"Tell me about it. I wouldn't be surprised if Prescott's hair turned gray the next time we see him!"

Both young men shared a laugh at the thought.

"Oh, one more thing I want to mention…" Gyules smiled wickedly. "Remember that requisition order I put in last week?"

"Vaguely," Alec replied, trying to recall what exactly it was his friend was interested in getting. "Something about a Scorcher?"

The younger Gear nodded, grinning wider. "That's right! And guess what? High Command approved it!"

Alec buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Rudy… Listen, I get that you want to avenge Randy, okay? I'd be the first one to help you when the opportunity comes. I miss him, too. But I don't think charging into the Hollows to kill everything inside will end up working."

The death of Randal Gyules had been a touchy subject between the two friends ever since the end of the Lightmass Offensive. Rudy hadn't taken the news well when he found out about it, and his lust for revenge against the Locust only worsened after he learned the details behind his brother's passing. The sick, gory details that left Alec hurling in the restroom for over an hour afterwards.

"Psh." Rudy waved him off. "I'm not going to kill _everything_ , Dalton. Just the Berserkers."

Right. Berserkers – the blind, ten-foot-tall, heavily armored monstrosities of nature that could tear a person apart limb by limb. That had been _exactly_ what happened to Randy Gyules, which inadvertently caused his little brother to develop an unhealthy obsession with eradicating the brutes off the face of Sera.

Dalton heard once that a Berserker's hide was too tough to pierce with ordinary firearms. Only one thing was known to be effective to soften the armor enough for ballistics to work: fire, from any source ranging from makeshift incendiary grenades to a sustained blast from the Hammer of Dawn. The knowledge that his best friend would soon have a freakin' _flamethrower_ , combined with his seething hatred of the blind beasts, was understandably enough to rattle Alec's nerves.

"The Locust have made themselves scarce since the bombing," he stated, attempting to tread carefully around the subject. "And with this whole gate thing going on, I really don't see Command sending us far from the city limits any time soon."

"I know that, Alec." Rudy assured him. He took a bite of potato before he kept talking. "I'm not saying I'm going to wipe them out _today_ ; trust me, those damn grubs will get what's coming for them, but you're right about the gate. I'm curious to see how Prescott plans to handle that."

"I might be able to tell you something…" A third voice cut in.

Both privates turned to find Second Lieutenant Yanagida hovering over them, arms crossed and wearing one of those annoying "I'm-going-to-tell-you-something-that-you're-not-going-to-like-but-I-probably-will" smirks.

Dalton blinked. How long had his old partner been standing there? More importantly, how long was he listening?

"The Chairman already has enough problems to deal with as is," Akira told them. "The Locust War, Stranded raids, sustaining the population of Jacinto… You can bet he isn't happy about having yet _another_ enemy to fight against. Word among the higher-ups is that he's pushing to have the army mobilize sometime soon. I'm not sure why exactly, but if I had to guess, I'd say it has something to do with the gate. Our new enemy must've come from somewhere, after all."

"You mean like a counter-offensive? We invade them for invading us?" Rudy asked.

"It's definitely possible. Diminished as it may be, our army is still vastly superior to theirs when it comes to technological prowess. And depending on the total size of their forces, if the COG can secure absolute victory, then we might be able to establish a forward operating base in the other world." Yanagida informed them.

"Wait, 'other world'?" Alec parroted. "Do you mean that…?"

"Yes, Private Dalton, I do. Analysis of captured enemy equipment shows no similarities to what Serans used during the Silver Era and earlier. Interrogated prisoners also spoke in a language that doesn't appear in any of our linguistic records." The lieutenant smirked wryly. "Plus, you know, we don't have trolls and wyverns and things like that on Sera."

"Holy shit, dude…" Gyules muttered.

Alec was at a loss of what to think. A gate in Jacinto that led to another world? A world – he dared to hope – without the Locust horde, where all of humanity was free to live as they pleased? Could they make peace with any rulers on the other side? If so, could the COG immigrate there to protect its citizens?

Dozens of different questions swirled in his mind, and he had the answers for none of them.

"I'm afraid I have to take my leave now, gentlemen." Akira's smooth voice broke him from his thoughts. "There's only an hour for lunch break, and I like to savor my food."

Yanagida made to depart, but not before glancing over his shoulder to smirk at his former partner.

"Thank you again for the promotion, Dalton. I never would've learned that information if it hadn't been for your generosity. The CIC isn't really suited for private conversations…"

The new lieutenant left for the lunch line, whistling a tune.

"Was he being sincere when he said that?" Gyules whispered, watching him go.

Alec's response was a clueless shrug.

* * *

Yanagida sat down at one of the officers' tables with his tray minutes later. He stopped before he could take a bite of ramen – the only constant reminder of his home country left – when he noticed the woman frowning next to him out of the corner of his eye.

"What is it, Reynolds?" he sighed wearily.

Some would claim that First Lieutenant Courtney Reynolds was simply given her position due to blood ties, but that wasn't the case. Now at age twenty-six, Reynolds fought tooth and nail against both the Locust and COG enlistment policies to earn her status; she was known by many as one of the only frontline female Gears left to hold an officer's rank. Why she chose to get down and dirty with the grunts instead of any other occupation, Yanagida couldn't figure out.

Some would also claim she was a bombshell. Her slender frame was reinforced with muscle thanks to nearly eight years of constant combat. Her wavy blond hair was cut to shoulder length, and her light blue eyes were a perfect complement to her porcelain skin.

Even when she was frowning at him, Yanagida could admit she was cute.

"I saw you talking with those two." Reynolds subtly pointed to Dalton and Gyules. In contrast to her looks, she had a strict, somewhat forceful tone of voice.

"Who, the rookies? I was just telling them-"

"About our plan with the gate?" the higher-ranked lieutenant cut him off. "Yanagida, I understand you're excited to work with the top brass now, but some things are better kept a secret. My uncle told me yesterday what will happen, and ever since then, I've been stuck worrying about whether we're making the right choice or not."

Yanagida sighed, pushing his ramen aside. He wasn't very hungry all of a sudden.

"I'm doing it to protect them, Reynolds."

Courtney made a quizzical sound, tilting her head in confusion; blond bangs fell into one of her eyes.

"What I'm saying," the Eastern man elaborated slowly, "is that in the time I've known him, I gradually found myself coming to… _respect_ Private Dalton. He may be green, and have _no ambition whatsoever_ , but I still feel the 'Hero of Jacinto' deserves to know his work isn't over yet."

"And the other guy? His friend?" Reynolds listened intently.

Akira exhaled a deep breath. Even he could sympathize with the pain Rudy Gyules must've gone through.

"Private Gyules recently lost a brother to the Locust. From what the official report said, it was… messy." He tried not to conjure any mental images of the scene. He didn't want nightmares for the rest of his life.

"You want to prepare them in advance. Help them stay alive," Reynolds concluded.

Yanagida nodded wordlessly.

"Things are happening that we don't want to happen, Second Lieutenant." She warned him cryptically. "I have faith the COG will see us through, but the truth is, we just don't know the full extent of what lies beyond the gate. Though I think what we all know is…"

"The Gears will be the first to find out," Yanagida finished.

* * *

 **(The Next Day)**

Alec relaxed onto his bed and made himself comfortable. He was finally given a day off from patrol duty; with nothing urgent to do on base, it wasn't difficult to get permission to leave the grounds for a while.

The comic book store was closed on Sundays (he wept internally after remembering that), but that left him with plenty more time to visit his grandparents' apartment and chill out in his old room. Once he'd figured out how to get the dusty old TV set working, he was surprised to see Chairman Prescott was delivering a speech, broadcasted over every working channel.

 _"_ _Naturally, this land does not appear on any map."_

Huh, so Akira was right.

 _"_ _We don't know what lies beyond the gate, or what it is like. Everything about it is a mystery."_

As long as there weren't any Locust, he wasn't going to complain about whatever might be there. Nothing could be scarier than the subterranean humanoids and their pet monsters.

 _"_ _We apprehended many of the attackers in the previous incident. At present, they are no more than criminals who have broken the law, or in other words, terrorists."_

Meh. Terrorists or not, they were a lot easier to beat than the Union of Independent Republics. _Those_ guys hadn't surrendered for almost eighty years; it took the development of Imulsion-fueled orbital death lasers to finally turn the tide.

 _"_ _Destroying the gate will not solve this problem. We fear that it may simply lead to the opening of another gate elsewhere in Tyrus."_

Alec wondered how the Locust would react if they saw the medieval invaders. Probably with violence, he reasoned.

 _"_ _Thus, we have decided to consider the land beyond the gate – the Special Region – a part of Tyrus."_

Was that what they were calling it? The 'Special Region'? Dalton thought it sounded unimaginative, but then again, the only ones who knew the true name of the mysterious world were the COG's prisoners of war. And if what Yanagida said about their foreign language was true, it might be some time yet before the correct name was discovered.

 _"_ _And in order to learn what lies on the other side, as well as to bring any forces there to the negotiation table, we have determined that it is necessary to go beyond the gate… even if it is dangerous."_

Alec suddenly had a bad feeling about this…

 _"_ _For the purpose of investigating the Special Region, apprehending the ringleader of the Jacinto incident, and securing compensation by force, the Coalition of Ordered Governments will dispatch half of its armed forces to the other side of the gate."_

"Yanagida was right… about everything," Dalton said quietly, shifting on his bed so he was sitting cross-legged. "We're going to war in a different world…"

Prescott had more to say. _"We cannot afford to delay. COG forces are expected to fully mobilize and venture through sometime within the next week. We will dare to go where no man has gone before! We will show this new enemy the might of our brave soldiers! And we will fight until justice has been served!"_

Alec turned the TV off and flopped back onto the mattress.

 _Inspiring as always, Mr. Chairman. We can always rely on you for a pick-me-up, can't we?_ He thought with a rueful chuckle.

Prescott had a fair point, though – attacking innocent people for no reason was a dick move. If the Coalition wanted answers, and a bit of revenge, they needed to take a bold step forward.

As a Gear in the machine, Alec Dalton would be happy to serve.

* * *

 **(Five Days Later)**

"Attennn- _tion_!"

One hundred Gears, organized into two columns of fifty, stood rigid as a booming voice echoed down the street.

Standing directly in front of the gate's entrance, which was now encased in a steel dome with a pair of remote-operated doors allowing access to the interior, the voice's owner watched the assembled soldiers with a hard expression. He was in his early fifties, with sharp eyes the same color blue as his niece's. Instead of a helmet, he wore a tattered gray boonie hat over his graying brown hair.

"My name is Captain Maurice Mayweather, and I'll be your commander during our stay in the Special Region!" he declared. "Now listen up! Advance scouting parties say that the other side of the gate is on top of a hill surrounded by grassland. We've managed to construct rudimentary defenses around the gate, but that won't mean anything if there's nobody there to man them! And that, men, is where we come in!"

Many of the Gears let out whoops and gung-ho cries of approval.

"We have reason to believe that the enemy is waiting for us on the other side. Therefore, you need to be ready for combat to begin the moment we cross over!"

Standing somewhere in the front left column of soldiers, Private Dalton remained quiet while his comrades grew increasingly fired up. He turned his attention to the left, where a makeshift memorial to victims of the Jacinto incident had been built along the side of the street. Dozens of mourners congregated around the length of the memorial; some placed down bouquets of flowers, others cried in overwhelming grief, and a few were content to gift the departed with a quiet prayer.

Dalton felt his breath hitch when he spotted a familiar little girl and her mother, dressed in all black.

Isabel remained silent as her surviving parent wailed in despair. Her wide brown eyes were fixated on the memorial, unblinking, even as tears threatened to leak out at any moment. She didn't detect the lone Gear watching her from behind.

Alec's jaw clenched under his helmet, the grip on his Lancer tightening. Someone was going to pay for tearing this family apart.

"We'll be entering the gate shortly." Captain Mayweather announced. "Godspeed, all of you."

* * *

One hour later, Private Dalton's stomach lurched when the APC began moving. The advance party, consisting mainly of Centaur tanks backed up by half a dozen Assault Derricks, had left thirty minutes ago and were presumably busy entrenching themselves on the other side of the gate. Now it was time to deliver the infantry and extra supplies.

Soon, he would leave Sera behind to explore a whole new world. He pondered on whether or not his grandma would be able to send him cookies.

He hoped so. The little peanut butter ones with chocolate on top were his favorite.

Gyules sat next to him, shiny new Scorcher in hand. Alec was glad to have his best friend by his side – Rudy's presence did wonders to help ease his anxiety.

The same couldn't be said about the Gear across from him, though. He was young, probably in his middle to late twenties. The man had black hair with loose bangs, partly covered by a dark green wool hat, and forest green eyes. A Longshot rifle rested casually in his lap.

He grinned at Dalton, revealing slightly yellowed teeth.

"This your first big fight, kid?" the man asked.

"Uh, kinda, yeah. If you don't count the Jacinto incident, that is." Alec was very glad he chose to wear his helmet now. Something about this guy rubbed him the wrong way; almost as if he should recognize his features, as if he should _realize_ who this man was. He didn't want to know how the other Gear would respond if he knew he was talking to the Hero of Jacinto.

"Eh, don't overthink it. Actually, now that I think about it, I can't even say I can call this a real battle."

"Really? What would you call it, then?" Gyules chimed in.

The man patted his rifle. "Target practice."

"Oh… Forget I asked."

"Name's Weaver, by the way." The hat-wearing Gear introduced himself. " _Sergeant_ Weaver. Gotta admit, I'm a little rusty with a gun, but there's no better way to get your skills back than shooting medieval retards, am I right?"

"Vinnie! They aren't retards," another Gear sitting close to him scolded.

This one was female and wore sleeveless armor, though her face was concealed by a stripped-down helmet that bore more of a resemblance to a hockey mask than any piece of protective headgear. Her brown hair was visible, tied back in a short ponytail. Her tanned skin combined with her pronounced accent placed her as Kashkuri in descent.

"You don't know that for sure, Faith," Vinnie argued. "For all we know, they mark their captured territory by spreading feces everywhere."

The woman, Faith, couldn't hold back an amused giggle.

"You two know each other?" Alec tried to keep the conversation going. He felt a steady vibration in his seat as the APC drove further into the darkness of the gate's interior, and it was starting to unsettle him. Any kind of distraction from that would've been welcome.

"Sure do. Corporal O'Nellis here is my spotter." Vinnie smiled at his companion. "I owe her my life, believe it or not – both on and off the battlefield."

Faith twirled a strand of hair in her finger, embarrassed and flattered simultaneously. "Well, I wouldn't put it _that_ way, but…"

Dalton wanted to ask for details, but Gyules apparently chose that precise moment to drag his weird hobbies into their unexpectedly enlightening chat.

"Hey Alec, do you think we'll find any catgirls on the other side of the gate?" he asked excitedly.

Dalton couldn't resist teasing his friend. "I don't know, Rudy. If we do, we'd need to call a medic to treat your dick ASAP."

Both privates heard Weaver snicker loudly. "Heh. Catgirls? Fuckin' weaboo."

"Vinnie! Be nice!" O'Nellis chided.

"Excuse me!" Gyules sat up straight, glaring at the sergeant beneath his helmet. "I'll have you know that I am an _otaku_ , not a weaboo! There's a big difference!"

"Which one worships the titties?"

Gyules didn't have an answer for that.

As the sergeant endured more scolding from O'Nellis, laughing like a hyena all the while, Alec subconsciously clutched his rifle tighter. Everyone else in the APC either didn't notice or didn't point it out, but he could practically _feel_ the raw energy coursing around the vehicle even in its interior.

Soon, they would be on the other side of the gate; pioneers in an uncharted frontier. Those medieval-themed people, whatever their intentions or goals were, had made themselves a powerful enemy.

The COG war machine was in full motion with no hope of stopping it.

And as a Gear in the machine, he was happy to serve.

* * *

 **Holy $#! & this chapter is long. Almost 11,000 words? That has to be a new personal best for me.**

 **Yeah, I kept Yanagida around. He kinda grew on me over time, and I figured that he could be put to good use in this story. It actually felt very natural writing the scenes he was in.**

 **Gonna have to think of something to replace the Hakone Incident later on… I'm thinking "Special Region natives meet the Locust". Hehehehehe…**

 **And in case anyone's curious, Dalton wears the first variant COG helmet, and Gyules wears the second. O'Nellis, I imagine, has a heavily modified custom-made variant.**

 **Hmm, what else… I'm planning to update my profile sometime soon, so there's that. And now that I FINALLY have some time to screw around on my laptop, maybe I can see if my creative spark is still intact. Fingers crossed.**

 **(2/15/18 update: Cleaned the chapter up a little bit. I posted it literally ten minutes before I had to leave for work.)**


	2. Crimson Omen

**I hadn't originally planned this, but I decided to split the second episode into two chapters. It just fits the pacing better, plus the chapter would've been an absolute goliath if I did write everything in. I'd prefer not to make it too messy.**

 **Anyone who has even a passing familiarity with** ** _Gate_** **should know how this chapter will play out. Something that bugged me was that we never got to see any battles through the JSDF's perspective until the aftermath; needless to say, I went out of my way to fix that with some original COG scenes.**

 **I've also decided to shorten the timeline of events in this story from one year to about six months, as shown in the previous chapter. There are a few reasons for this, though it's mainly because the COG, as the only official government left on Sera, doesn't have to worry about foreign nations scrutinizing their every move.**

 **Finally, I highly recommend listening to "BFG Division" from the _Doom 2016_ soundtrack during the final segment of the chapter. It just make the whole scene a hundred times more badass.**

 **Can't say much else without major spoilers. On with the curb-stomp battle!**

* * *

 **(Alnus Hill, COG Encampment)**

Leaning over the railing of a parked Derrick, Master Sergeant Theodore Bare couldn't recall the last time he'd felt so at peace.

He knew it was only a matter of hours before the fighting began, of course. And when it did, the enemy would learn the hard way that Teddy Bare was more akin to an enraged grizzly bear when provoked. But even as a thirty-six-year-old veteran of countless battles, Bare still possessed a keen eye for beauty, and he was determined to memorize the landscape in front of him before it was inevitably ravaged by warfare.

His nickname had a lick of irony to it. Towering over most of his fellow Gears at 6'5 in height, Teddy was a juggernaut of a man. His armor was dented, scratched, and chipped in numerous places; a monument to the number of engagements he'd survived during the last years of the Pendulum Wars and the entirety of the Locust War. His short black hair and brown eyes were hidden under an equally damaged combat helmet. Bare's cuirass also exposed his tan, heavily muscled arms, adorned with a large tattoo on each of his biceps.

The first tattoo was a holy cross, placed beneath a gold halo and decorated with angelic wings. "SARAH" was written vertically in black ink down the length of the cross, while "BARE" was written on the horizontal part. The first "A" in each word was connected – he didn't care if the alignment was a little off.

The second tattoo, in extreme contrast to the first, pictured a demonic, flaming sword with a horned skull ornament. The blade was violently thrust through four black letters that bled profusely from each point of impact. The letters spelled out a single, one-syllable word: "RAAM".

There was a dark, painful story behind his choice of ink, though he wasn't currently reflecting on the past. Teddy's attention was entirely focused on what laid ahead of him now.

Calling the new world beyond Jacinto "pretty" would've been the understatement of the century. The Special Region was stunningly beautiful: the cloudless night sky, untouched by the ash and pollution that choked the atmosphere of Sera, exposed millions of twinkling stars; tall hills and grassland surrounded the other side of the gate in every direction for miles. If he squinted, he could make out mountain ranges in the far distance, picturesque and topped with pure white snow.

His sad smile was hidden behind his helmet. He wished Sarah could've been at his side to share this vision of paradise with him.

For a moment, the master sergeant ignored the fact that he was about to go to war against the hostile natives of this land. Right now, there was no miracle fuel to fight over and no Locust vying to kill him. It was just him, some fresh air, and a brand-new world with no conflict whatsoever.

An incoming transmission from Captain Mayweather snapped Bare out of his fantasy.

 _"_ _Message to all units! The enemy is on the move! I repeat, the enemy is on the move in our direction! Infantry, to the trenches! I want all Silverbacks on lockdown mode! Centaurs, keep a lookout on the sky for wyverns! Same goes to you, Derrick gunners! Mortar squads, get into position and give 'em a warm welcome they won't soon forget!"_

Well, break time was over. It was refreshing while it lasted.

Before he moved to the Assault Derrick's ladder, Teddy took one last glance at the expanse of valley ahead of the gate. A sea of movement that could only be the approaching army, easily illuminated by the thousands of torches spread throughout their numbers, was indeed marching towards the Coalition's new base.

The true scale of this hostile military, technologically primitive as they were, was _massive._ He made a rough estimate of one-hundred thousand troops; with the COG's retaliatory forces numbering only around four thousand, they were in for a very long and very bloody night.

The muscular Gear slid down the ladder, paused to collect the heavy mortar launcher resting against the side of the vehicle, and began the short walk to his post.

Payback time.

* * *

"Oh sweet gods above, please have mercy on my soul!" Vylus fervently prayed to whatever deities might be listening to his pleas. "Don't don't let me die on this hill; I beg of you! I apologize if I have offended!"

"Quiet, coward!" another Imperial horseman barked. "If you so much as move an inch out of formation, I'll drag you to the chopping block myself!"

The disgraced former commander, now demoted to a common cavalryman, audibly gulped but didn't speak further.

Vylus was one of the lucky few to escape back to Imperial territory after the disastrous campaign beyond the gate. What was once a proud, undefeated army of thirty thousand, divided equally between men and beastfolk, had been utterly _massacred_ left and right by the Blue Golems until their numbers dwindled to the mere hundreds.

If there was one thing he learned about the foreign people's tactics, it was that they couldn't be routed once they dug in somewhere. He witnessed it personally, watching from what he thought was a safe distance while his troops engaged in a hopeless all-out attack on what he assumed was the enemy's palace.

It was a safe distance, until he heard a loud _crack_ – followed by Torgal's head suddenly exploding right next to him. Vylus wisely chose to throw in the towel and get the hell out of there after that little demonstration of the golems' capabilities.

Unfortunately, his misfortunes only grew after his return to their home world. The general who coordinated the initial invasion plan, despite never having gone through the gate himself, was furious that one of his most successful commanders turned tail and ran the moment things looked like they were getting difficult. He'd given Vylus a choice: die on the spot, or join the upcoming siege to take back Alnus Hill without his command privileges.

He probably would've chosen execution if he knew he'd be placed at the very front of the charge. Gods, that general was almost as spiteful and thick-headed as the Emperor's eldest son.

 _I ask again, holy ones; please don't let these Blue Golems be the end of me!_ Vylus resumed praying in his mind. _I swear that if I somehow manage to survive this, I'm marching straight to the Imperial Palace to give old Molt a piece of my-_

"Oof!"

One of the foot soldiers a few paces ahead of him nearly tripped when his boot collided with something on the ground. A strange, bulging object connected to a short chain was half-buried under the earth, making it very easy to miss in the cover of darkness.

All the blood in the cavalryman's veins turned to ice when he heard a faint sound emanating from the unknown device.

 _Beep! Beep! Beep!_

He didn't have the slightest idea what this object was, aside from one obvious thing – the Blue Golems must've placed it there. And if that was the case, then…

 _BEEP! BEEP! BEEEEEEP!_

Vylus spurred his horse and ran like the wind a second before the grenade trap detonated, vaporizing every soldier caught in its lethal radius.

"What in the Underworld was that?!" he heard one soldier yell fearfully.

"Get back here, Vylus, you damn traitor!" the other horseman from earlier thundered. "When the general hears about this, you'll be- _AAAAAGGH!_ "

The man didn't get to finish his sentence before he was engulfed a massive explosion, blowing him along with the other eighteen riders in his formation into crispy chunks of flesh. Vylus had never been so happy to disobey orders before; if he'd listened to that asshole, he definitely wouldn't be alive right now. Of course, he was still _very_ likely to die soon if he stayed on this battlefield.

 _This is suicide; I have to get out of here while I can! They can't pay me enough to face those damn golems again!_

The former commander steered his horse in the direction of Italica, away from the army he served so faithfully in... an army that was now marching to their inevitable doom.

He did his best to block out all the noise surrounding him, but there was so much of it – the shouts of disbelief, the declarations to capture or kill him, the shrieks of wyverns getting blown out of the sky, the screams of soldiers caught in more explosions and the high-pitched whistle in the air that preceded them…

He didn't believe it possible, but this was even worse than the first attack through the gate! _Much_ worse!

Vylus spurred his faithful steed even faster, miraculously avoiding death even as what must've been magical blasts from the vengeful enemy continued to bombard the hills adjacent to Alnus. Just what type of hellish sorcery were they using?! The radius of each explosion was more than enough to annihilate two, even three formations at once!

The more instinctual part of his mind, the one that prioritized survival, told him he'd done the right thing by running away when he did. He had a feeling that, as horrifying as the situation was now, this was only the tip of the iceberg… and that it would only get worse for the Imperial army as they continued their march on the holy ground.

* * *

 **(Eighteen Hours Later)**

"Got any threes?"

"Go Fish."

"Fuck!"

First Lieutenant Reynolds tossed the cards she was holding into the air, scattering them all around the floor of the spacious tent she and her uncle were presently occupying.

"Aw, don't tell me you're giving up so soon, Rey-Rey." Captain Mayweather's grin was a bit too smug for someone trying to act encouraging. "Remember the first thing I taught you about card games: 'Victory in each one boils down to the luck of the draw'."

"Maybe, but what are the odds of me losing sixteen times in a row?" she snapped back at him.

Uncle Maurice shrugged, neatly setting down his own stack of cards. Both officers were sitting at a small table in the COG command tent, taking a short break after almost a full day of fighting.

"Realistically? Extremely low. I'm starting to think you should stay away from gambling, however."

"Ha-ha. Very funny, uncle." Reynolds placed an elbow on the table and rested her cheek in her hand. "Real talk; as much as I like spending time with you, shouldn't you be out there doing your job? You know, like commanding your soldiers? You haven't given them any new orders since this morning."

The old captain shrugged again, pausing to light up a cigar before he replied. "Do you really think I need to? This has to be the easiest battle I've ever fought in my career, Courtney. Between the snipers and heavy artillery, our new enemy hasn't even come close to breaking the line. A lot of our specialists haven't got anything to do." He chuckled lightly in amusement. "Heck, why do you think I'm teaching you how to play Go Fish?"

She hated to admit it, but her uncle had a valid point. While the enemy's forces greatly outnumbered their own, their understanding of tactics was lackluster at best. Their only strategy so far seemed to consist of charging the hill over and over again until it worked. Predictably, it hadn't.

"But what if our tanks and mortar crews run out of shells? What will we do then?" Reynolds countered.

"That won't be a problem," Mayweather assured her, puffing a sweet-smelling ring of smoke. "We brought enough ammo to level an entire city. If we need more, we can send some trucks back through the gate and pick it up from base. Besides, I have my radio with me; if anything goes wrong, someone will let either me or Yanagida know."

"I'm still uncomfortable about this…"

Uncle Maurice sighed heavily. "Rey-Rey, I've been a Gear for thirty years now. When you get to be my age, you'll learn to trust what your gut tells you – it's saved my sorry ass on more than a few occasions. And right now, my gut's telling me we have nothing to worry about. Okay?"

He gave her a genuine smile to go with his words. A smile, she knew, that nobody else except her was allowed to see.

Courtney smiled back at her last living relative. Unorthodox as he was compared to most other officers, Maurice Mayweather was every bit as determined to protect the troops he led in battle as his niece. He wasn't the type to send them to their deaths on a whim – apparently in stark contrast to whoever was leading their medieval opponents.

"Well… all right. I promise not to nag you so much in the future if we win this. Deal?" She offered a callused, yet still delicate hand to him.

"Deal." He shook it, then smiled wider. "Now how about I teach you to play 52-Card Pick 'Em Up? The floor's a goddamn mess."

* * *

 **(Imperial Senate, one day later)**

Constructed out of smooth marble and built adjacent to the royal family's palace, any visitor lucky enough to glimpse the interior of the Senate's central meeting chamber would call it luxurious. This was to be expected, of course; as the hub of the Empire's political dealings, the meeting room was well accommodated to handle even the most drawn out negotiations.

The room was circular, surrounded by eight rows of padded seats that stretched three columns high. A dome-shaped skylight allowed the early afternoon sun to shine light on the dozens of chattering men assembled throughout the chamber. At the back of the room was the Emperor's throne, protected by two royal guards and somewhat overshadowed by a huge banner with the Imperial crest behind it.

Seated on the throne was the Emperor himself: Molt Sol Augustus. He was dressed in extremely regal attire, befitting his status as a ruler; his robes were primarily colored black, white, and gold with a few traces of purple. Three gem-encrusted rings were fitted neatly around the fingers of his right hand. Despite being in his mid-fifties, the Emperor's dark blonde hair showed no signs of losing its pigmentation.

Currently, Molt was watching apathetically as a middle-aged senator with spiky black hair, a man by the name of Marquess Casel, ranted on about the events at Alnus Hill.

"It was a total embarrassment, Your Majesty! The single greatest humiliation we've ever faced!" Casel exclaimed. "We've lost 60% of the Empire's military might. What would you have us do? How would you guide the state?"

"Marquess Casel, think about how the people must be feeling."

In response to the senator's uncertain expression, Molt placed a tired hand over his face. Casel was never very good at seeing the bigger picture.

"It is true that our latest losses have cost us our military advantage," he allowed himself to admit freely. "They worry that vassals of our state and others may revolt and attack the Imperial Capital itself."

He removed the hand from his eyes, now smiling sinisterly. "How pathetic."

The Emperor secretly relished the shocked response his words emitted from Casel.

"Every time our Empire is in danger, the Emperor, the Senate, and the people become one to face the danger, and bring about even more progress." He explained patiently. "No war is won without some loss. Therefore, I will not hold anyone responsible for our recent losses."

He meant it, too. As catastrophic as the Battle of Alnus Hill was for the Imperial military, they fought with courage and determination even when the enemy's superior equipment prevented them from… well, fighting. If the surviving officers' testimonies were true, then the army apparently failed to kill even a single one of the mysterious golems occupying their most sacred ground.

But the Senate didn't need to know about that.

"To think that another nation dares surround the Imperial City…" Molt's eyes were locked with Casel's, though he raised his voice to address every gathered politician in the room. "I trust that none of you will waste time in court."

Molt was inwardly pleased to see many of the senators begin chatting with one another, their spirits raised by his stalwart conviction. While the loss of over half their military assets was a crippling setback, in the end, that was all it was – a setback. The Empire may have lost the battle, but the war was far from finished.

"But what shall we do?" a new voice interjected.

Moving to stand beside Marquess Casel was a hunchbacked old half-elf carrying a walking cane.

The Empire's ruler lifted a brow in mild surprise. Who let this guy into the meeting room? Yes, he was technically Molt's most experienced general, but the Emperor didn't recall asking for his presence. This might get more complicated than he wanted…

"The army we sent was defeated in just two days." The half-elf reminded him. "Now the Empire's side of the gate has been captured, and the enemy is attempting to set up base on this side!"

Molt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He _knew_ this already.

"Of course, we attempted to take back the hill as well. But the enemies in the distance… I have never witnessed such powerful sorcery!"

"We ought to fight them!" a bald man in black armor declared, standing up with a raised fist. "If we do not have enough men, we need only to recruit them from our tributaries. Attack the other side of the gate once more!"

"What good will brute force alone do?" another senator argued.

"It'll be another Godasen!" a third man agreed.

"Yeah!"

"Fight them!"

"Death to the invaders!"

"I still say this is a bad idea…"

Amusing as it was watching politicians yell at one another, Molt decided he needed to wrap this up before it came to physical blows. A simple raise of his hand was sufficient to shut them all up.

"I do not wish to sit idly by." He said calmly. "Therefore, we must fight. Send delegates to our tributaries and neighboring states. Ask for help in defending the continent from these 'golems' from another world."

He stood from his throne, showcasing his best "I'm in charge" pose for everyone in the room to see. "We will lead the Allied Army of Godu Rino Gwaban in an attack to reclaim Alnus Hill. Glory to the Empire!"

"Glory to the Empire!" each of the senators repeated, rising to give Molt Sol Augustus a standing ovation.

Only Casel remained silent. The man stepped closer to Molt, fixing the Emperor with a worried scowl.

"Your Majesty… if you go through with this insanity, it will be a _bloodbath_."

Molt's only response was a sinister smirk. Once again, Casel wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. What the man failed to realize in his short-sightedness was that, regardless of the battle's outcome, it would be a personal victory for the Empire.

* * *

 **(Weeks Later)**

Perched on a rocky outcrop atop his horse, King Duran of Elbe pondered in silence on the circumstances that brought him and his army to the Imperial homeland.

Feared across the continent by allies and enemies alike as the "Lion of Elbe", neither Duran's bodily strength nor his tactical genius were hampered by his climbing age. He was an imposing figure, clad shoulder to toe in dark red plate armor; without his helmet to keep it in place, the king's wavy brown hair hung loosely around his weathered face. A metal eyepatch, colored the same shade of red as his armor, hid his missing left eye from view. Completing his outfit was a black cape with fur around the collar.

Duran was no stranger to war – in fact, he was famed throughout Elbe for personally leading his troops against any enemy foolish enough to threaten his kingdom's borders. Having spent much of his life on the battlefield before he was crowned king, Duran's leadership and skill with a blade were legendary.

Then why did he find himself so… hesitant, to face a new foe?

"Your Majesty!"

The armored man turned to see a soldier on horseback approaching from behind.

"Your Majesty, we've spotted what appears to be enemy scouts two hills ahead," the soldier informed him, pointing into the distance.

"How many?" Duran inquired.

"Two, sir. It looked like they were putting up some kind of sign, but we couldn't read the language."

He briefly mulled over the possibility of ambushing the stray enemies. "…Leave them be. There's no honor to be gained in an unprovoked attack. Something the Emperor seems to have forgotten," he added under his breath. "Come, now. We must hurry to meet the other kings."

Duran departed the outcrop with his subordinate in tow, soon regrouping with the bulk of Elbe's army as they marched towards the Allied camp.

* * *

Later that night, in the Allied Kingdoms' command tent, the various kings, dukes, lords, and generals congregated around a large table littered with maps to discuss the upcoming battle. Excluding the Imperial messenger with them, there were a total of eight men in the tent – eight different vassals of the Empire, each in command of their own army. It was without a doubt the single largest allied military force in the Empire's long and often bloody history.

Regretfully, what was supposed to be a strategy talk was slowly breaking down into a heated argument, much to King Duran's chagrin.

"The Imperial commander isn't coming? What is the meaning of this?!" the King of Arguna hollered, banging his fist on the table like a small child who was denied candy.

"He is currently leading the Imperial army in an attack to distract the hostiles on Alnus, in order to buy time for the remaining allied reinforcements to organize. He is unable to leave his post, I'm afraid." An Imperial messenger replied without hesitation.

Duran sat down next to the Duke of Ligu, confused by what he was hearing. "That makes no sense. I did not see many enemies on the hill. If they're dangerous enough to force the Imperial army to retreat in direct combat, what would they have to gain by attacking again, and without backup?"

Much to his surprise, it was Mudwan's king that answered him. While he'd always considered the man a trusted friend, he couldn't deny that his fellow ruler was the most soft-spoken of the group, and the least experienced in military affairs.

"Duran, sir, the Imperial army is holding the enemy at bay in our place. If they weren't, we'd run the risk of letting enemy scouts discover our location," he explained.

"Lord Ligu," the messenger interrupted, "we would like your armies to attack the enemy at sunrise tomorrow."

The Duke of Ligu, a slim man with a thin mustache and green armor, grinned at the prospect of glory. "Understood. It would be a privilege to have my army take the front line."

"No, mine will!" the King of Arguna protested, standing up to glare at the Duke with his one good eye.

"Wait! We will take the front lines!"

Duran said nothing while the nobles squabbled over who got to fight the gate's new arrivals first. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair with a contemplative expression.

"Duke Ligu will lead the charge." The Imperial messenger declared. "The armies of Arguna and Mudwan will follow in that order. The rest of you are to stay behind until the battle is won, or until you are needed. We shall rendezvous tomorrow at Alnus Hill."

He left the tent after that, presumably to inform the Imperial commander about their decided course of action. Some of the lords continued to grumble, clearly upset by the missed opportunity to claim glory in battle.

Duke Ligu was not one of those people. "Oh, I can't wait for morning!" he gushed. "The Empire may have lost the previous battle, but this enemy doesn't stand a chance against the might of Ligu!"

"Ha! Keep dreaming! My army will decimate them single-handed!" Arguna's king boasted.

"Unfortunately, my army could not take the front lines…" Mudwan's ruler sighed in regret. "Such a shame. I was really hoping to prove what we could do."

Duran spoke up to comfort him. "Perhaps it is for the best, my friend. The enemy only has an estimated 4,000 soldiers, while our armies have 300,000 men altogether. We outnumber them 75 to 1. Still... do you not find it strange that so many troops were gathered to defeat such a small force?"

"What are you saying, sir?"

"I'm saying I do not like the look of this battle," Duran admitted softly. "Something about it feels… _off_."

His response elicited a laugh from the King of Mudwan. "Is that so? Apparently even Duran, Lion of the Elbe Clan, is no match against the passing of time!"

"Think about it, old friend. How much do we know about the enemies we'll soon face?" Duran pointed out. "We've all heard the rumors surrounding the Blue Golems by now: what they lack in numbers, they make up for with an unknown and incredibly destructive type of magic. Do you truly think we can succeed where the Imperial army failed?"

"S-Surely they can't defeat the combined strength of 300,000 trained soldiers, correct?" Mudwan's king weakly retorted.

Duran sincerely wished he could answer that. Maybe then he'd know if he was about to lead his army to victory… or a slaughter.

* * *

 **(The Next Morning)**

"You're kidding. He wanted to know _what_ now?!" Lieutenant Reynolds balked in disbelief as she walked alongside her uncle, the two officers making their rounds along the COG garrison's perimeter.

"Garrison" probably wasn't the right word to describe it – with a few weeks to resupply and take a breather after the native army's humiliating defeat, the Engineering Corps worked around the clock to transform what had once been trenches, tents, and makeshift barriers into what was effectively a small fortress. Other Gears with explosive ordinance training had also been made useful: the crude minefield that worked so effectively earlier was replaced and reinforced with remote-detonated charges; a useful asset to ensure that higher-ranked or more dangerous enemies would be caught in the blasts, and not just the cannon fodder. Additionally, automated turrets were placed in sight of where the enemy's forces were thickest in the previous battle to assist in repelling them in case of another attack.

Some might call it overkill or paranoia to use such defenses against a technologically inferior opponent, but Reynolds learned a long time ago that all was fair in love and war. The surge of morale among the troops after their victory wasn't a bad thing, either. It was an easy battle, to be certain, but the COG would take what it could get at this point.

"I'm serious!" Captain Mayweather insisted, looking like he'd just been told that Sera was actually flat the entire time. "I told you that many specialists were bored, but I didn't think it would be so mind-numbingly dull that some of our men would invent fantasies about this world to keep themselves entertained! I mean, how should I know if there are any catgirls here? What even _is_ a catgirl, anyway?"

He didn't bother to keep his voice down, which garnered curious stares from passing Gears as uncle and niece continued their walk-slash-bonding session. A lot of them seemed on edge lately. Reynolds had a feeling why: nighttime scout reports indicated the enemy hadn't quite accepted total defeat yet, and were amassing the largest army witnessed since the conflict began.

She smiled grimly. Throwing more people against their upgraded defenses wasn't going to win them jack shit. If they were too stupid to realize that, then maybe her uncle couldn't be blamed for having nothing better to do except trounce her in card games. She hadn't been needed on the front lines, anyway.

Courtney turned to the captain with a kinder smile, prepared to ask him to continue his story, when his radio picked up an unexpected transmission.

 _"_ _Captain Mayweather, this is Corporal O'Nellis of Sniper Team Four! I've spotted movement two hills over – LOTS of movement!"_

Mayweather stiffened in alarm, all playful antics immediately gone in favor of the determined and capable leader Reynolds knew he was. "Roger that, O'Nellis. Is it the same enemy from last time?"

 _"_ _I don't think so, sir."_ O'Nellis responded. _"They're definitely not here for tea and cake, but their armor looks different. The ones we fought before were- MY SIGN! GOBLIN BASTARDS JUST TRAMPLED OVER MY FUCKING 'KEEP OUT' SIGN!"_

Mayweather and Reynolds both flinched at the corporal's sudden outburst.

She wasn't finished. _"VINNIE AND I SPENT HOURS PUTTING THAT DAMN THING UP, AND THEY JUST WALTZ OVER AND KNOCK IT DOWN! THEY'RE ALL GOING TO DIE! I SWEAR, THE NERVE OF-!"_

 _"_ _Uh, Captain, this is Sergeant Weaver."_ A new voice cut off O'Nellis' rant, much to the officers' relief. _"We've got a lot of armed contacts headed to our position. Might want to get everyone ready for round two, yeah?"_

"Copy that, Sergeant. Anything else to report?" Mayweather asked.

 _"_ _Hmm… Some of these guys are wearing funny little helmets with these big fin-looking things on top. Mind if I show our new friends how retarded they look by shooting them off?"_

That had to be the most unprofessional thing Courtney Reynolds ever heard in her entire military career. Then again, considering who was speaking, she really shouldn't have been surprised.

Her uncle tried and failed to hide his grin. "Permission granted, Weaver. Do so in the name of common fashion sense." Then, opening a different channel, he yelled into the radio, "All Gears, get to your positions! Enemy contacts have been spotted! I repeat, the enemy has returned! You all know the drill! Move, move, move!"

He put his radio away after that, smiling pleasantly at his niece, even as the Gears surrounding them were stirred into a frenzy of last-minute preparations.

"So… up for a bit of solitaire tonight?"

Reynolds didn't know whether to punch him or hug him, so she settled for rolling her eyes.

* * *

Miles away from the COG encampment, two dozen men on horseback, led by the King of Elbe himself, galloped toward Alnus Hill at a feverish pace. It was unusual at first glance – why would the king bring such a small force if he wished to fight, instead of his whole army? Was the prospect of earning glory in battle too tempting to ignore? To the average observer, nothing about the scene made sense.

The truth was far more ominous: King Duran, Lion of the Elbe clan, was afraid.

If what his scout said at dawn was true, the combined armies of Mudwan and Arguna, backed up by the Principality of Ligu, were en route to the enemy stronghold at Alnus. Fifteen thousand men was nothing to scoff at; on the other hand, if the Imperial army really did lose sixty thousand soldiers in two days, the Allied forces would need _much_ more than that if they hoped to capture the gate.

Duran was aware of that. The King of Mudwan wasn't. Arguna's king was too prideful to ever consider retreat, reinforcements or not; as for the Duke of Ligu, Duran didn't know.

And Emperor Molt? Oh, he knew all right. In fact, he seemed to know a lot more about the Blue Golems' capabilities than he'd made his vassal countries believe, since not a single Imperial soldier was sighted with the other armies.

Duran was afraid for two reasons: the unified armies might have been betrayed, and his closest friend could very well be in danger as a result.

 _Molt, you insufferable bastard!_ Duran seethed, gritting his teeth so hard he heard one crack. _If this war is indeed what I suspect it is, then I pray the gods are feeling vengeful!_

He was snapped from his internal loathing by the sight of sudden explosions in the distance.

"No…" the king breathed, his remaining eye widening in shock. "Is Alnus Hill erupting?"

What sort of monstrous golems could make a quiet, sacred place burst into flames like that? Duran slowed his horse to a cautious trot, the men behind him following suit.

The explosions ended as soon as they began, though the sight that lay before him when his party went to investigate would haunt Elbe's ruler until the day he died.

"W-What is this?"

He looked side to side at the shallow craters littering the ground in front of him. Men from the three armies, many charred or missing body parts and all of them dead, were scattered around the field like mutilated puppets. The stench of smoke and seared flesh hung heavily in the air.

Duran heard one of his soldiers make a sick sound, forcing his breakfast back down his throat as they gazed out into the literal valley of death.

"Where is the King of Arguna?" Duran choked out. "Where is the King of Mudwan? Where is Duke Ligu?!"

* * *

 **(Hours Later)**

"There, between the second and third hills. See him? The one flanked by banners?" Corporal O'Nellis asked her partner.

Weaver snickered from his spot next to her, aiming through the scope of his heavy sniper rifle. "You kidding me? His armor's so damn shiny, you could probably see him from space."

BANG!

"And now he's dead, which means his men are scattering…" O'Nellis trailed off while the sergeant reloaded his gun.

Through the high-powered scope of her own GZ18 Markza marksman rifle, she saw the hostiles break rank and flee in a panic, seconds before they were engulfed in a massive explosion. When the smoke dissipated enough for her to see clearly again, none of the three dozen medieval soldiers in that particular formation were still alive.

"…Which means the mortar crews are less likely to miss." Vinnie finished with an evil smirk.

She smiled fondly at him. It was good to have her closest friend back, even if he'd changed a bit during their three years apart. She supposed it wasn't important – she still understood him despite his faults, just as he understood her, and that was that.

The pair had been sitting on the deck of an Assault Derrick for hours now, identifying priority targets in the enemy's ranks and eliminating them long before they could pose any sort of threat to the COG defenders. In a twist of irony, the invaders were actually _helping_ Faith locate their commanders; generally speaking, any men on horseback wearing fancier armor than their subordinates were taken out first. That was assuming she could even spot them in time before they were blown up by the never-ending artillery fire.

This enemy wasn't tactically flexible by a longshot, that much was obvious – but they were annoyingly persistent. O'Nellis felt herself getting thirsty, compounded by her earlier tirade against the little demons who flattened her beloved warning sign.

Seriously, fuck those things. Vinnie hadn't complained when she temporarily ignored her duties as a spotter to take a few potshots at them.

She scanned the battlefield to the best of her ability, trying to pick out a new victim through all the chaos, when the sound of someone climbing the Derrick's ladder caught her attention. A well-built, helmeted Gear in sleeveless white armor – which instantly categorized him as a medic – emerged onto the deck, carrying a small medical bag over his shoulder. Unusually for a COG soldier, he was completely unarmed save for a Boltok pistol strapped to his leg holster.

"Are you Sergeant Vincent Weaver and Corporal Faith O'Nellis?" he inquired in a flat, emotionless voice.

Vinnie put his rifle down to glare at their uninvited guest. "That's right. Sniper Team Four, at your service." He gave the man a mock salute. "Now what the hell do you want, doc? If it ain't important, then fuck off. It's not polite to interrupt a man and a woman when they're in the middle of something."

"Vinnie! He's done nothing wrong!" O'Nellis snapped.

The changes were subtle, but noticeable to anyone who knew him. He was never like this before he was convicted to the Slab…

"My name is Wesley Hutch." The white-armored newcomer introduced himself in the same unfeeling tone, completely ignoring Weaver. He reached into his bag, producing two sixteen-ounce bottles of water for the duo to see. "With Coalition injuries nonexistent at this time, the medical team has been reassigned to help distribute food and water to soldiers who have actively participated in the battle for prolonged periods. I've come to deliver sustenance."

O'Nellis met the confused glance Weaver sent her, shrugging helplessly. It was obvious the moment he opened his mouth that something was incredibly, undeniably _off_ with this guy… but hey, if he was offering them water, who was she to refuse?

"I will return at twenty-hundred hours with further supplies." Hutch informed them once they accepted their bottles. "I also recommend finding time to exercise between enemy waves to reduce the risk of blood clotting. If you have any further medical concerns, please seek out either myself or one of my colleagues."

He climbed back down the ladder without another word, leaving the sniper and spotter to wonder what the fuck just happened.

"…I sort of liked him," O'Nellis said awkwardly. "He was… interesting. In a weird way."

Weaver grunted in response, taking a quick sip of water before grabbing his rifle and settling back in to keep picking off enemies.

Faith suppressed a giggle when she imagined him shooting at an army of Hutch clones.

* * *

 **(Nightfall)**

"We have less than half of the 100,000 men we set out with!" a surviving noble cried in dismay.

"How could this have happened?" a second lord muttered, elbows resting on the table and massaging his temples with his index fingers. "Where is the Imperial army? What are they doing?!"

Someone sighed. "No, not even the Imperial army could stand a chance against them. That's why we were called upon for aid in the first place, remember?"

Seated across from the other generals, eye closed and arms crossed, King Duran listened to the increasingly solemn conversation in silence. Placed in front of him was a battered helmet collected from the battlefield; Mudwanian in design, it was the only reminder he had left of the dear friend he'd lost today. He wasn't sure if the helmet even belonged to the king. He didn't care enough to dwell on it.

The campaign had been a disaster the minute Duke Ligu ordered his troops to march on Alnus. The reclusive golems occupying the hill retaliated fiercely, bombarding the Allied Kingdoms' armies with their hellish magic and raising pandemonium throughout their ranks. Some traumatized soldiers even claimed their superiors' heads exploded as soon as the enemy stronghold came into view.

Not for the first time, Duran struggled to grasp how the Blue Golems attained such lethality. None of the allied forces made it close enough to even catch a glimpse of the monsters.

"Should we retreat?" the third man suggested. "The enemy doesn't seem interested in leaving Alnus Hill. Perhaps we should surrender before we antagonize them further."

It was a viable option, Duran admitted, and probably their best one. He hadn't been able to reach camp and warn the generals in time before the second offensive was launched. With such staggering losses on the Kingdoms' side, the Blue Golems were in a prime position to counterattack. If they did, there was very little hope of survival, let alone victory.

Why did they have to make this personal…

"We cannot run off now."

The four other lords in the tent turned as one to face him, each of them wearing an expression of open shock. Duran opened his eye, fixating it on the ruined helmet. The piece of armor seemed to mock him – he viewed it as both an invitation and a challenge from the golems.

 _He never stood a chance. Your friend is dead because of us._ A taunting voice whispered in the old ruler's mind. _Seek us out and claim your revenge. We'll be waiting…_

"Not until I've paid them back with an arrow," Duran growled, clenching his fists until his gauntlets creaked in protest.

"But Lord Duran, we have hardly enough might!" someone protested.

"Then perhaps a night raid…"

* * *

King Duran personally despised sneak attacks. They were the widely regarded across the continent to be the most treacherous and least honorable form of warfare; there was no glory to be gained from stabbing a sleeping enemy in the back, nor was it a good way to cast oneself in a favorable light.

Today's battle changed many things – for better or worse – and Duran's belief in the value of stealth was one of them. A night raid might've come across as unsavory, though it paled in comparison to the sheer _mockery_ of warfare the Blue Golems demonstrated throughout the day. To the Underworld with honor and glory in battle – if attacking them under the cover of darkness was what it took to win, then Duran was willing to swallow his pride.

It was an all-or-nothing plan. There was no turning back. The Allied Kingdoms mustered all of their remaining forces for this attack, spearheaded by the Lion of the Elbe Clan himself. It was 150,000 of the best trained soldiers in Falmart against 4,000 demons from another world.

The trek through the fresh graveyard near Alnus, filled with the corpses of men, wyverns, and beastfolk, still sent a shiver up his spine.

"Tonight is a new moon," he explained when one of the other kings asked what the plan was again. "In this darkness, we should be able to make it to the other side of the hill and ambush the enemy."

He watched in satisfaction from a small bluff as Elbe's army – his pride, joy, and family – made it to the other side of the earlier battlefield without any complications. They were now deeper into enemy territory than any army had been previously; Alnus Hill was visible in the distance, surrounded by the golems' numerous fortifications. As long as they kept quiet and moved lightly, there was no doubt they would reach-

Duran was nearly thrown off his horse when it started to buck and whinny in alarm. From the enemy stronghold, several small, bright objects erupted into the night sky. The objects sailed in the approaching armies' direction, bathing the landscape around them in an ominous, blood red color.

"What brightness!" the king exclaimed. Seconds later, his eye widened when he made the connection.

Brightness.

During a night raid.

 _They'd been spotted._

"MOVE!" Duran screamed, spurring his mount into action. Soldiers in front of him stepped to either side to allow him through, watching dumbly as their ruler made a mad dash towards Alnus.

"Knights, run! Footmen, run! All units, attack! ATTACK!"

The deafening sound of clanking metal indicated that they'd heard him and were doing their best to catch up… until the first explosives dropped. He couldn't hear much of anything after that.

Duran weaved around the field in a zigzag motion, narrowly dodging the artillery fire raining down from the heavens. "Follow me! We must keep pressuring them!" His voice was barely audible over the sound of explosions and the shrieking whistles that preceded them.

He urged his horse to go even faster. They'd nearly made it before they were discovered. Alnus Hill was so close! Just one more mile, and he could personally behead every last one of the invaders who took so much from-

The King of Elbe cried out in shock after his steed jumped off a small ledge and got tangled up in some kind of sharp metal wiring, throwing him from its back and causing him to tumble several feet across the ground. He laid there in a daze, his thoughts suddenly jumbled. The cognitive part of his mind that still worked silently cursed – how could he be so foolish to think the enemy wouldn't pull something like this?!

"King Duran! We're coming, sir!" a soldier shouted. Duran turned his head to look at him. Good – at least some of his troops were able to keep up. The man carefully cut through the razor wire with his sword, then rushed to his commander's aid; someone else called for a shield formation to guard the king until he was back on his feet.

Shields? Duran wanted to throttle whoever came up with the idea. What good would shields do when pitted against the Blue Golems' unbridled wrath?

Nothing, apparently, when said golems unveiled their next dirty trick.

"Run! Run, everyone!" Duran's warning came too late. A metaphorical tidal wave of tiny projectiles, originating from Alnus and barely big enough for the naked eye to see, washed over the army; the old knight who ruled them could only watch helplessly as his subjects were massacred all around him. The little objects ripped through the shield formation in seconds, leaving Duran fully exposed.

He felt one graze the side of his helmet. It felt _hot_.

The Lion of Elbe took a few steps forward in a trance-like state. The wave of projectiles never ceased, though miraculously, Duran remained unharmed. He stopped when he noticed a discarded longbow on the ground, along with a quiver of arrows. Kneeling down, he picked up the bow with one hand and a single arrow with the other.

He nocked the arrow and aimed high. He was only slightly less proficient with archery than swordsmanship – he was confident in his judgement of the distance between himself and Alnus Hill.

"Bastards… This is for Mudwan's king!"

 _Twang!_

Duran watched the arrow disappear over the horizon. Would it hit anybody? Would it even matter?

No… it wouldn't matter. None of it mattered anymore.

Duran tilted his head back and laughed. It was a loud, insane, unrestrained sound that would've echoed into the night if it weren't for the constant explosions. He laughed at the thought of just how _stupid_ he'd been to not trust his earlier instincts. Now, as a consequence, he'd lost many people close to him. He was practically guaranteed to lose his own life soon enough. Further punishment? Maybe. Perhaps he deserved it for his rashness.

He laughed as he imagined Emperor Molt, safe on his throne and probably laughing himself while his scheme played out perfectly. He'd tricked the Allied Kingdoms, just as he'd tricked the Blue Golems into fighting for him after his own army was crushed. In the end, the Empire was the real winner of this battle.

He laughed even as he saw the mortar shell headed straight towards him.

* * *

 **I just want to point out that I fricking** ** _love_** **writing Captain Mayweather.**

 **This chapter covers the rest of the main COG characters that will play a major part in this story. I'm aware that Dalton, Gyules, and Yanagida didn't make an appearance this time, but that was so the rest of the cast could get some development. They'll come back in the next chapter, so don't worry.**

 **I guess I'll answer some reviews while I'm here:**

 **Zaeva: The Locust aren't aware of the Special Region's existence, and won't be for some time. That isn't to say they won't play a big role in the future…**

 **Guest: I'm glad you agree with my decision to use OCs. Some of the canon Gears might make guest appearances (such as Bernie in the last chapter), but none of them will play a huge role.**

 **Rotciv557: The thing about new stories? Nobody knows they're coming, so you feel a lot less pressure to get them out. I must've spent a month tweaking and refining the first chapter. I can't say for certain if future chapters will be as lengthy (this one sure isn't), but I appreciate the positive feedback.**

 **Wacko12: Yep, Dalton's still a private. He has confidence issues that will be addressed throughout the story.**

 **By the way… the ratio of favs/follows compared to reviews is 3:1. Favs/follows motivate me, but reviews get me typing. Hint hint, nudge nudge.**


	3. Theta Squad

**Something I probably should've mentioned in the first chapter: this is NOT going to be a harem story. Hell fucking no. Anything resembling a harem will be played strictly for laughs and will be resolved in a mature, reasonable manner. Again, since this story has multiple protagonists, it leaves a lot of room for branching friendships and different pairings.**

 **This chapter will conclude the introductory arc for the COG. I'm shooting for lots of character development and interactions between the squad, along with more fleshed-out interactions between them and the residents of Koda Village. Why must so many possibilities for world-building be skimmed over? I weep manly tears at this injustice.**

 **How will the Gears adapt to the Special Region? Will Gyules' otaku nature drive Weaver crazy? Just what the heck is up with Hutch? And will Captain Mayweather ever learn what a catgirl is? Let's find out…**

* * *

 **(Alnus Hill Outskirts)**

It was early morning when the COG finally sent troops out to assess the deserted battlefield after the invading army's final defeat. Unlike the previous night, the sky was cloudy, casting a gloomy atmosphere in the valley around Alnus Hill.

Master Sergeant Bare was disheartened to learn that his earlier prediction came true. Everywhere he looked were signs of battle: craters from the combined tank and mortar fire stretched across the landscape as far as the eye could see, made worse by countless corpses of men and beasts scattered around like ragdolls. Tattered remnants of once-colorful banners fluttered pitifully in the breeze, while loud _snaps_ occasionally echoed through the graveyard when his boots would step on a broken weapon. While he understood the reasoning behind the COG's declaration of war, a part of him regretted that things had escalated so quickly.

Maybe things would've been different if the invaders tried using diplomacy instead of engaging in multiple, ultimately futile struggles against the Coalition. Perhaps it was all just a huge misunderstanding on their part. Unfortunately, it looked like Bare would never find out. These mysterious men from another world chose their path and dug their own graves.

He wished Sarah was around to help guide him. She always knew the right thing to say when he was feeling troubled.

"How many do you think we killed?" a voice behind him asked. Teddy turned around to look at the flamethrower-toting Gear who asked the question. Following close behind him were two other soldiers – Privates Dalton and Gyules, if he remembered their names correctly.

"Since we arrived? Almost 230,000." He replied in a deep, baritone voice. "260,000 if you factor in the Jacinto incident. The COG doesn't play around when it comes to warfare."

"Oh my god… we killed over a quarter of a million people with only a few thousand soldiers…" Private Dalton murmured with no small hint of shame. Bare had a feeling the kid was too nice to be a Gear sometimes.

He shrugged, turning back around and never losing his pace. The trio were assigned to search for any enemy survivors and, if possible, bring them back to base for interrogation. So far, they hadn't found anything other than massive amounts of death and destruction. They could've called it a day and went back themselves, but Bare wanted to conduct a thorough check of the area just in case.

"Like I said, they don't play around. We do what has to be done for humanity's sake – it's why we've survived as long as we have against the Locust. Hell, we could've ended this war in seconds if we had the Hammer of Dawn set up."

"I guess that's true," Dalton admitted. "I still wish we could've found a more peaceful solution, though. I'd rather not start a war if there's any way to prevent it from happening."

"They're the ones who started it, Alec. Not us." Gyules reminded him. "They came through the gate and started killing innocent people for no reason at all. If that's not grounds to start a war, I don't know what is."

Dalton stayed silent, apparently agreeing with his friend.

Teddy honestly didn't know what to make of the guy. They'd been introduced to one another a few hours ago when they were assigned to go scouting; if it hadn't been for Gyules cracking a joke about him denying a promotion, Bare wouldn't have known he was working with the Hero of Jacinto himself. Alec was friendly and polite, if a little sensitive, though he couldn't imagine the younger Gear single-handedly driving off swarms of hostiles while the civilians evacuated.

Well, he'd done it somehow. He hadn't mentioned it at all since they'd met, though, and he seemed eager to leave the incident behind and move on, so Bare didn't bring it up.

Gyules was a lot easier to figure out, at least on the surface. He appeared to be a happy-go-lucky young man who enjoyed cats and had a strange taste in literature. That's what he'd been able to pick up while listening in on his random chats with Dalton, anyway.

Bare cracked a tiny smile under his helmet. They were both good kids who didn't deserve to see the horrors of the Locust War firsthand. If visiting a new world let them keep their innocence a bit longer, even if their government wasn't on good terms with the natives, then so be it.

Who knew, maybe he'd have time to get to know them better in the future. Good friends were hard to come by these days.

"Hey, you know what I just realized?" Gyules piped up again. "Since all three of us are wearing helmets, we don't need to worry as much about all these vultures crapping on our heads!"

Then again, maybe not.

* * *

 **(Imperial Palace)**

Lavish as the Imperial Senate's meeting chamber was, the Emperor's throne room in the Imperial Palace was comparatively simple in its design and decoration. Other than a humongous red carpet covering the length of the room, eight marble pillars that reached from the floor to the ceiling, and a pair of large windows on either side of the throne, it was mostly devoid of furnishings.

Bathed in shadow on his literal seat of power, Emperor Molt listened intently as the Internal Minister of the Empire, a bald, aging man named Marcus, went over details regarding the final outcome of the Second Battle of Alnus Hill. News of the battle hadn't reached the Imperial capital until very recently. Technically this was either a good thing or bad thing: good, if the Allied armies were holding out better than expected, and were simply too busy fighting the Blue Golems to send a progress report until now; or bad, if they were all slaughtered and the detachment of Imperial scouts watching from afar had to make the report themselves.

However, to the Emperor, either option was a good one. Now he would find out which method of victory it was.

"Your Majesty, we expect over 180,000 casualties in total among the nations. The defeated armies have been left without leadership and are returning home." Marcus filled him in.

"All according to plan, then." Molt leaned back in his throne and steepled his fingers together, looking very much like a stereotypical evil villain at that moment. "Our neighbors can no longer threaten the Empire."

He wasn't surprised in the slightest to hear the news. Some would've disagreed with his methods, and some did, but Molt Sol Augustus hadn't led the Empire to an era of prosperity not seen in more than a hundred years by acting kind. Were his vassal states planning a rebellion, now that the Imperial army was too weakened to stop them? Take advantage of their pride as warriors and sic them against a superior enemy force before they became a problem.

He'd successfully weaponized the only enemy to ever defeat the Empire in direct combat, without them even realizing it. Since they'd inadvertently done him a favor, he was content to leave them alone for now.

However, he still needed a way to stop them, or at least slow them down if they ever decided to become a thorn in his side once again. Luckily for Molt, he had a plan.

"Burn every village and town from Alnus to the Imperial City. Poison their wells and take their food and livestock. That will stop any army and leave them vulnerable," he ordered without hesitation.

Marcus nodded, his expression neutral. "Scorched earth tactics, I see."

Would it work? Possibly. The golems were clearly an advanced race of beings, and with both sides of the gate under their control, it was feasible they could form a steady supply line from their home dimension if they ever felt inclined to leave Alnus. Then again, there was a slight chance the recent battles could have cowed them into submission – in spite of their overwhelming victory – making them afraid to venture far beyond their stronghold in fear of further attacks. With so little information about the Blue Golems or their motivations, it was impossible to know for sure.

Did they even _need_ to eat or drink? Again, he didn't know, but he wasn't willing to take any risks regarding them. Not when the Empire was in a state of political turmoil.

"I worry about defectors and the loss of tax revenue." Marcus voiced a new concern.

Speaking of political turmoil…

"Defectors, you say?"

The Internal Minister lifted his head to look Molt in the eye, causing the Imperial ruler to inwardly frown. He'd been busy admiring his reflection on Marcus' bald dome.

"There are motions to have you recalled within the Senate, beginning with Duke Casel." His retainer clarified.

Molt leaned forward, suddenly showing more interest than he had throughout the entire meeting. "Is that so? This is a good opportunity to take care of the entire Senate in one swoop." Casel dared to challenge him? Oh, this was getting fun. He grinned at the thought of making the troublesome Duke's life a living hell. "Let us order the Council to investigate."

Whatever Marcus was about to say next was interrupted when both men heard the doors to the throne room slam open, followed by the sound of armored footsteps approaching them.

"Your Majesty!" a female voice called out.

"Ah, my beloved daughter. What do you need?" The Emperor planted a fake smile on his face as the Imperial Princess came to a halt next to Marcus.

The fifth eldest of his numerous children at nineteen years old, Piña Co Lada was nonetheless third in the line of succession, despite her mother being nothing more than a mere concubine. She was dressed in a red and white sleeveless blouse that exposed a generous amount of her ample cleavage, along with a short white skirt, thigh-high leggings, and black stilettoed boots reinforced with steel. Pieces of bronze armor covered her shoulders, knees, and parts of her chest; completing her outfit was a pure white cape that nearly touched the floor. Piña's unusual red eyes perfectly complemented her long crimson hair, which was tied back in a single large braid.

She was beautiful, but also the biggest pain in the ass Molt had ever raised. She was smart enough to pose a serious threat should she ever desire the throne for herself. If it wasn't for her unwavering dedication to the Empire and its welfare, Molt would have had her removed a long time ago.

She also had a bad habit of barging in when she wasn't wanted, as she demonstrated just now.

"It's about Alnus, of course." She replied to her father's inquiry without missing a beat. "I have learned that an allied army has faced miserable defeat, and that the Empire's holy ground at Alnus Hill is occupied by enemy forces."

Was she telling him this, or asking for confirmation? He made a mental note to keep her away from Marquess Casel. The two of them working together to bombard him with facts he _already knew_ would've been too much.

"What are you doing at a time like this?" she demanded.

"We will use this opportunity to take back the Hill-"

"What complacency!" Piña cut Marcus off, scowling at him. "That will not help us stop the enemy invasion! If the combined strength of the Allied Kingdoms wasn't enough to defeat them, what more can we do?"

Molt took that opportunity to step in. "Piña, you are correct. We are far too ignorant regarding the enemy that occupies Alnus Hill as of now." He grinned when a new scheme suddenly came to mind. It was the perfect excuse to make her go away and stay out of his business. "This is perfect. Could I ask you and your Order to scout their position?"

That got the effect he wanted. The princess flinched in shock, her red eyes widening. "M-Me? With my Order?"

"Indeed… If your Order is more than your _plaything_ , of course." The Emperor added in a somewhat mocking tone.

Piña gasped, then stiffened. She got down on one knee to kneel to him.

"I understand, Your Majesty."

Molt watched with a smirk as his daughter stood up and departed the room. Once again, he'd come up with a win-win scenario to get her out of his hair. Simple recon was an easy enough task, though it would take almost a whole week for her and her knights to reach Alnus Hill proper. Any information they could gather about the Blue Golems would be invaluable. On the other hand, if the Order was compromised and Piña were to be killed… well, that just left one less contender for the throne, didn't it?

The only way things could get more perfect would be if that bothersome Fire Dragon decided to attack Alnus Hill as well.

* * *

 **(COG Command Tent, Alnus Hill)**

"Report in, Second Lieutenant. What sort of losses have we taken?"

Captain Mayweather waited patiently at the table as Akira Yanagida flipped through his folder, searching for the correct details in the COG after-action report.

"My biggest concern is that we're running dangerously low on artillery ammunition. Our supplies at Wrightman Base have been exhausted. If the enemy returns again, I doubt we'd be able to hold them off a third time." Yanagida informed him.

"Noted. I'll send a message to High Command as soon as I can." Mayweather nodded. "Anything else?"

The new lieutenant tensed in his seat. "We… do have one confirmed casualty, sir." He said hesitantly. "One of our men was killed in last night's assault. Apparently, the enemy made it closer than we thought."

The old captain sighed, removing his boonie hat to rub his forehead. The night raid came as an unexpected surprise for the COG; the only reason they'd detected it was because of the rotating snipers they kept on constant watch. While he wasn't too worried about their defenses being overrun, he also wasn't naïve enough to believe they would survive the whole ordeal unscathed. It was the closest thing to a real threat they'd encountered since arriving in the Special Region.

"How did he die?" Mayweather asked.

Yanagida checked his papers again. "One of the enemy soldiers made it close enough to fire an arrow, it seems. It went straight into his neck."

Ouch. That was unlucky. If there was one place where a fully armored Gear was vulnerable, it was their exposed neck.

"What was his name?"

"Private Damien Carmine, sir."

Carmine, Carmine… the name sounded vaguely familiar. If he remembered correctly, the Carmines were a family with a long and colorful background in the military. However, if the whispered rumors surrounding them were true, they were also said to breed like rabbits and die like lemmings.

"We sent his body back through the gate this morning," Yanagida continued. "His family will want to see him one last time. Other than that, we've gotten off easy, to say the least."

"Very good. If that's all there is to report, then you're dismissed, Lieutenant."

Yanagida nodded and made to exit the tent. As he opened the flap, another Gear with blond hair ducked under his outstretched arm in order to enter.

"You called to see me, sir?" First Lieutenant Reynolds straightened her posture, ignoring the glare Yanagida sent her way.

"Ah, Rey-Rey, you made it just in time!" The captain greeted his niece with a warm smile. "Take a seat. There's something important I need to discuss with you."

Courtney sat down, eyeing him curiously. He quashed the urge to gush over how much she looked like her mother at that moment – he needed to focus. There would be time to embarrass her later.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "So, the Chairman has come to the conclusion that we need to investigate the people, industries, religions, and politics of this region. The more we know about this world, the easier it will be to pinpoint the mastermind behind the Jacinto incident."

"An investigation, huh? That sounds great and all, but what does that have to do with me?" Reynolds queried.

"I'm getting to that. First, we're going to form six deep recon teams. Your mission will be to command one of them."

She blinked owlishly. "…You're kidding. This is another one of your jokes, isn't it?"

"What makes you think this is a joke, Rey-Rey? You're an officer with years of leadership experience. There's no one more qualified to lead a team in the Special Region than you. Besides, I thought you'd jump at the chance to go out and explore the frontier, get some fresh air, maybe kill a few bad guys…" Mayweather listed off.

"Okay, okay, I get it." Reynolds relented. "Which team will I be in charge of, and how soon can I get copies of their records?"

Her uncle smirked. "I'm glad you asked."

* * *

 **(Three Hours Later)**

Lieutenant Reynolds stood rigidly with her hands clasped behind her back. Lined up in front of her were six other Gears, each one of them fully armed, armored, and ready to deploy at any minute.

She wanted to say they looked like a team of carefully selected professionals. Truthfully, they more closely resembled a random mish-mash of specialists and personalities than anything organized. Not that any of them were bad people – okay, maybe one of them was – but Reynolds knew she had her work cut out for her if she wanted to convert them into a cohesive and deadly fighting force.

First from the left was Sergeant Vinnie Weaver, the most likely the group to cause problems and the one she trusted least. Once hailed by the public as a decorated sniper, then shunned as a convicted murderer, Weaver's release from prison had only been done out of sheer necessity. Although his psyche profile indicated he held no grudges against the COG for his incarceration, Reynolds would make sure to keep a tight leash on him as they explored the Special Region.

Following him was Corporal Faith O'Nellis, Weaver's trusted spotter and the only other female Gear on the team. She and him came as a package deal; neither of them seemed to go anywhere without the other. She'd also reportedly testified for Weaver during his trial, narrowly saving him from execution. If anyone could keep the unruly sniper in line, it would be her. Other than that, she was a fairly level-headed and outgoing woman whose presence would definitely be welcomed as a benefit.

Private Wesley Hutch, medical expert. As intelligent as he was antisocial, Hutch possessed over ten years of experience in the Medical Corps that gave him unparalleled knowledge on how to put a broken soldier back together. That being said, the man had a very peculiar issue: his ability to express emotions had been severely hampered due to a rare form of PTSD. There was no given reason as to why, though Reynolds guessed it likely had something to do with his status as a medic. They saw some utterly fucked up injuries sometimes, especially during the Locust War, so she could sympathize if he had trouble socializing.

Master Sergeant Theodore "Teddy" Bare, heavy weapons specialist. The oldest and most experienced Gear on the team, Bare's physical strength and brutish appearance concealed a sharp mind with a lot of insight on the art of warfare. Any hostile contacts they might run into would be smart to think twice before picking a fight with him. If they weren't, then the Mulcher machine gun he hefted around would quickly show them the error of their ways.

Private Rudolph Gyules, incendiary handler. She knew from Yanagida that he lost his brother to the Locust, fueling a strong desire for revenge against a specific and extremely lethal type of grub. In a way, coming to a new world and doing some recon was the best thing that could've happened to him – he had a much better chance of long-term survival in the Special Region than the remnants of Sera. He was another one she'd have to keep an eye on, however; while none of them were strangers to personal issues, Gyules was the top candidate for biggest potential clusterfuck.

And finally, Private Alec Dalton. He was just… there.

For all the hype surrounding the "Hero of Jacinto", there was surprisingly little content in his records. He'd done a brief stint as a guard during the Lightmass Offensive, patrolled the streets of Jacinto on a daily basis… and that was about it. There was nothing noteworthy to say about him prior to the invasion. He seemed satisfied to just stay in the background and follow orders. He looked disciplined enough, so Reynolds guessed that counted for something.

These were the Gears now under her command. These were the people she would fight and bleed alongside for the foreseeable future. Their teamwork and trust in one another would determine whether they succeeded or failed in their mission.

This was Theta Squad.

"Fall in, Gears!" the lieutenant ordered. "I'm First Lieutenant Courtney Reynolds, and I'll be your commanding officer on this assignment! Our mission is to make contact with the townspeople in this area and determine their nature. If possible, we should seek to establish friendly relations with them."

"And if they're _not_ friendly?" Bare rumbled.

"Then we retreat. Don't engage unless you feel it's absolutely necessary." Reynolds answered. "Any other questions? Good, then let's mount up and get moving! I want us on the road in ten!"

"Yes, ma'am!" the rest of Theta chimed in unison.

The newly formed team began walking to the two Packhorse jeeps they were given for their mission. Dalton and Gyules walked side by side, chatting excitedly to one another, when Weaver suddenly slipped in between them.

"Well, well, if it ain't my old friends, Dweeb and Weeb!" the sleazy sniper greeted, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders. "How've you guys been doing? Did you have fun killing medieval retards yesterday? I sure as hell did. I had _lots_ of fun."

"Vinnie! We've been over this!" O'Nellis yelled at him.

"Wait, what makes me a dweeb?" Dalton asked confusedly.

Reynolds stifled a groan. This was going to be a _loooong_ deployment…

* * *

 **(Imperial Palace Exterior)**

Many miles away, in the Imperial capital city, another expeditionary force was also preparing to leave.

Princess Piña Co Lada paced back and forth near the gates to the palace while the trio of knights she'd chosen to accompany her looked on. It hadn't been an easy decision to bring such a small group; conversely, having the entirety of the Rose Knight Order as backup would've ruined the covert nature of their assignment. As such, she'd carefully chosen the three members of her Order best suited for the task.

Her first choice was obvious. Grey Co Aldo was a man in his middle age, with short gray hair and a few wrinkles on his stern face. He was clad in an unremarkable set of plate armor, and carried a two-handed greatsword over his back. He'd been the one to help her found an order of knights all those years ago, back when she was a preteen with a wild imagination and an insatiable urge to prove herself to her father. Grey was a wise yet hardened warrior with decades of combat experience. If anyone could find the best solution to the enemy occupation of Alnus, it would be him.

The second choice was also an easy one. As her personal attendant, Hamilton Uno Ror was intensely loyal to the princess and quite ferocious in a fight despite her youthful features. She wore an identical copy of Piña's outfit, though the red coloration was substituted for brown in her case; to top it off, she wore a blue headband over her light brown hair. Even Emperor Molt found her adorable, which was why Piña brought her along in addition to her capabilities as a knight. A lot of the Empire's citizens wouldn't see any harm in giving her information. Plus, if worst came to worst and they ran into the Blue Golems, would they really be heartless enough to kill someone so cute?

The final member of her party was Norma Co Igloo, who held the distinction of being the youngest male member of the Rose Knights. He had blond hair kept in a short ponytail along with a soul patch, and wore full plate armor like Grey, though Norma's was a bit more ornamented. She'd initially considered bringing Bozes or Panache instead of him, since they were better fighters, but both girls had a reputation for their… _direct_ methods when something didn't go their way. Norma's laid-back personality ensured he wouldn't be bothered if the mission ran into any obstacles or lasted longer than expected.

"This is our first real assignment as Rose Knights," Piña began, slowing down her pace to properly look at each of her underlings. "What we've been tasked with may sound simple, but the outcome could very well solidify our reputation as an Order, as well as help the Empire determine the best course of action regarding our unknown foe. I've chosen you three since your particular skillsets might give us an edge."

"What would the Emperor have us do, princess?" Hamilton asked.

Piña stopped and took a deep breath. She didn't have a clue how any of them would take the news, but it was too late to back out now. "We are to scout the enemy position at Alnus Hill." She stated plainly.

Norma's jaw dropped. "I'm sorry, but has your father lost his mind?! Doesn't he realize that no amount of manpower will drive the Blue Golems out of their fortress? What he's asking is impossible! We'll all die!"

"Watch your tongue, Norma!" the leader of the Rose Knights reprimanded. "He wouldn't do this just to get us all killed! He never said we needed to face these 'Blue Golems' directly, so for now we'll try the indirect approach."

"Which would be…?" the blond teen trailed off.

"I recommend we start by asking some of the townsfolk in nearby settlements for information. Chances are at least one of them might know something useful." Grey suggested.

Piña nodded in approval. "That sounds like a good idea, Grey. If we stop at each town and village between Sadera and Alnus Hill, we could get a better understanding of what to watch out for by the time we arrive at the enemy's doorstep."

"I'm curious to find out whether they're really golems. Do you think they're made of stone?" Hamilton pondered.

"Why? Are you imagining what they'd look like if they aren't? Wondering if you can take one home to conduct a _private_ examination, maybe?" Norma teased.

"N-Norma!" Hamilton's face flushed. "I have a fiancé!"

The Imperial Princess, having grown weary of their conversation, motioned for the knights to follow her to their waiting horses. "I don't know what they are or what they want, but that's why we've been sent to investigate," she reminded them. "Now, come. I'd like to reach the first major settlement by dusk."

Her father finally gave her a chance to prove that the Rose Knight Order was more than mere honor guards. Piña was determined not to let this opportunity slide.

* * *

 **(Koda Village)**

Private Wesley Hutch stepped out of the Packhorse into the daylight, stretching his limbs as he adjusted to finally being outside after four hours cooped up in the back of the vehicle. They'd chosen to follow a dirt road leading northwest, and while the scenery outside was quite pleasant, the cramped interior of the turret-mounted jeep hadn't exactly been comfortable. O'Nellis and Weaver emerged from the driver and passenger sides, respectively, linking up with the rest of Theta Squad to observe the village that lay ahead of them.

They'd found a settlement a lot faster than he'd expected. It was a moderately sized, isolated location in the middle of a small forest. A wooden gateway with unfamiliar writing painted at the top was situated at the village's entrance; beyond it were many simple houses. Hutch could see a few locals stop whatever they were doing to stare in awe at the Packhorses and their occupants.

He wondered if any of them carried contagious diseases. He'd need to give the squad a full check-up later.

Anyway, the first part of their objective was complete. The group of Gears huddled together, and Wes made sure to pay close attention as Reynolds explained the next phase.

"Now that we've made contact with the natives, we need to show them we don't mean any harm," she instructed. "Do whatever you can to look peaceful; if someone tries to instigate a fight or otherwise bother you, just ignore them and hope it gets resolved. Remember, we're visitors here. We can't afford to make ourselves look like the bad guys."

"And if we aren't comfortable mingling? Not all of us are great conversationalists." Hutch interjected.

"Then lay low and let the rest of us take care of it. I've picked up a few words from the POW's in Jacinto, so I'll try to handle most of the talking."

Her answer was enough to satisfy the medic, and he thought he saw Weaver's posture relax a little. The other four soldiers on the team simply nodded in understanding.

"We all set, then? Great. Let's go make some friends!" their leader finished encouragingly.

The seven Gears approached the town's entrance at a casual pace, each of them trying to look as unthreatening as possible. Word of their arrival seemed to spread quickly across the village; as they drew closer, Hutch noticed more and more people clustered around the gateway. None of the residents appeared to be armed, and they weren't pointing fingers and yelling for blood, so he took that as a good sign.

When they were roughly a dozen feet from the entrance, a short, portly man with a large mustache split away from the crowd to approach the team. He was dressed in a simple brown jacket over a beige button-up shirt, dark pants, and wore a light red scarf around his neck. Sitting atop his frizzy gray hair was a brown fedora.

He stopped six feet away from them, spread his arms in welcoming with a cautious yet kind smile, and said something in the native language. Reynolds replied with words of her own, although her voice sounded a lot stiffer. Whatever she said must've been correct, however, since the man's smile grew and he began talking at a mile per minute (much to the lieutenant's chagrin and the squad's amusement).

Once he finally shut up, Reynolds turned to face her team with a victorious smile.

"He says we can come in!"

"Hold on, are you saying you actually understood most of that?" Gyules asked in amazement.

The blond officer shrugged. "Barely. Almost nothing he said matched the most common vocabulary our prisoners used… Although now that I think about it, that might not be a bad thing."

"Hah! Reynolds learned all the nasty words first!" Weaver cackled, earning him an elbow to the gut from O'Nellis.

"Just for that, Sergeant, you get to stay behind and guard the Packhorses while the rest of us go in." Reynolds ordered, glaring sharply at the offending sniper. Then she sighed, shifting her attention to Wes. "Would you mind keeping an eye on him, Private Hutch?"

Hmm… Socialize with potentially hundreds of unknown people, or babysit a single, mouthy Gear? He'd be missing out on a possibly valuable opportunity to study this world's medical practices, but then again… socializing. He'd stopped doing that years ago when he realized that meaningful interactions were ultimately pointless in his field of work.

Even though Reynolds said he could lay low if he wanted, the chances of him making it through the ordeal without having to talk to anyone were slim to none. He'd come if he was needed, of course; as a medic, it was his duty to identify and treat illnesses, fix broken bones, and save human lives whenever and wherever he could.

In the end, it wasn't even a choice.

"I'll watch him."

"Thank you." Reynolds nodded appreciatively. "Gyules, Bare, Dalton, and O'Nellis, you're with me. Let's see what these locals have to share."

The five of them left for the village, leaving Hutch and Weaver to themselves. The latter meandered over to the front Packhorse and sat down on its hood, lighting up a cigarette. Hutch frowned under his helmet.

"Smoking is a health risk," he stated.

"Yeah, and the sky's fucking blue. Any other wise words to share with me, doc?" Weaver retorted.

"Lung cancer is a serious ailment that could hamper your-"

"I was being sarcastic, genius!"

* * *

 **(One Hour Later)**

Lieutenant Reynolds slumped against the side of a small building and let gravity carry her to the ground. The diminutive man who welcomed them earlier – whom she learned was the chief of Koda, the name of the village – was nice enough; but man, he'd been all too eager to teach the COG visitors the native language and recount the history of the sleepy little settlement. She didn't think the people living here saw much excitement in their day-to-day routines.

She'd grasped enough of the language that she'd written down several fractured sentences in a pocket-sized notebook, so that was a plus. Reynolds excused herself after an hour of crash course studying to take a lunch break, which led her to where she was currently resting.

She discreetly pulled her old grade school lunchbox, messily decorated with at least thirty horse-themed stickers, out of her satchel and gazed at it lovingly. The hunk of metal and plastic didn't just hold food; it also held memories of simpler, happier times before Emergence Day turned the world on its head. Courtney was initially mortified when Uncle Maurice presented it to her shortly before her introduction to Theta Squad, but now she couldn't be more grateful that he'd held onto it for all these years.

It felt too heavy to be empty, so she opened it up and smiled when she saw what was inside: a simple baloney and cheese sandwich, a bag of barbeque flavored potato chips, and a can of diet soda. She didn't bother to hide her smirk. While Captain Mayweather was adept at leading soldiers into battle, he couldn't lead eggs to a frying pan.

Tucked into a corner of the lunchbox was a note. Reynolds unfolded it and started to read as she took a bite into her sandwich:

 _Hey Rey-Rey!_

 _This is going to be the adventure of a lifetime for both of us, huh? I wish I could be out there exploring the Special Region with you, but I'm afraid I'm just too old to go on those kinds of excursions. Besides, someone has to keep the Gears in line at base, and I kinda don't trust Yanagida not to go mad with power if I leave him in charge. Ah well. I'll find a way to entertain myself, so don't you worry._

 _I'm proud of you, Courtney. I know I say that a lot, but it's true. You've grown so much and never lost hope in humanity, even when the chips were down, which is more than I can say for many people since the damn grubs first attacked. I'm confident you'll succeed in your mission and make a lot of friends along the way. Even if things don't go as planned, just keep your chin up and make the best of what you have. That's the kind of attitude that made you an officer, yeah?_

 _Anyway, have fun, and don't forget to bring me a souvenir!_

 _Love, Uncle Maurice_

 _P.S. If you happen to find yourself a handsome man out there, bring him back to base. He'll only get my blessing if he beats me at poker._

Reynolds wiped the tears away from her eyes. She really was lucky to have such a great uncle, even if he plotted to embarrass her to death half the time.

"Penny for your thoughts, Lieutenant?"

She yelped in fright and swiftly hid the lunchbox behind her back when she heard Bare's voice right next to her. Reynolds turned to glare at the Master Sergeant, who was easily carrying a wooden log under one muscled arm.

"For the love of god, Bare, don't sneak up on me like that!" she snapped.

"Sorry. I'll try to make louder footsteps next time." Teddy replied smoothly. "Anyway, what are you up to? Had enough of people for a while?"

Out of everyone in the squad, the tattooed veteran was probably the one Reynolds had the least overall concerns about. He didn't talk much, but it wasn't for the same reasons as Private Hutch; Bare seemed more content to sit back and listen to others first before offering his own opinion. Combined with his calm demeanor and years of combat knowledge, Reynolds was seriously considering making him her second-in-command.

"You could say that. The chief's been really helpful, but he'll talk your ear off if you give him half a chance. Sorry for yelling at you, by the way." She apologized. Teddy used his unencumbered arm to shrug, indicating that he didn't mind. "So, any word on how the others are doing?" the blond Gear continued, curious to know what their progress towards peace was.

"See for yourself," Bare swept his free hand in front of him in the direction of the village's main street.

It was easy to pick out her squadmates through the gaggle of residents. O'Nellis was attempting to communicate with a brunette woman by pointing out various objects around them and saying their names in Tyran; in turn, the woman provided a local translation for the corporal. What made the scene especially noticeable was the eight or so teenage boys not-so-subtly ogling the Kashkuri woman a short distance away. If Weaver was present (and Reynolds was thankful he wasn't), he no doubt would've picked a fight with them by now.

Gyules was being far less productive. He moved from person to person, mimicking cat gestures and meowing, and would sulk each time the residents gave him odd looks or shook their heads. Reynolds was prepared to march over and demand to know what the hell he was doing, when the sound of something heavy hitting the ground close by grabbed her attention. An old woman had dropped a basket full of fruit, and much to Gyules' saving grace, he immediately jogged over to help her collect the wayward food.

Dalton apparently became a huge hit with the village's children, evidenced by the five kids clinging to his armor as he slowly waded through a crowd of cheering youths. They seemed to be playing "Dogpile the Gear", and though he held strong for now, it would only be a matter of time before the private was buried under the sea of squealing children. All the parents were laughing jovially as they spectated him playing with their kids, and Reynolds was glad to see one of the adults watching over Dalton's discarded weapons. It meant he knew as well as she did that letting children touch a chainsaw bayonet wasn't exactly a smart idea.

She didn't think she could hope for better results.

"This is amazing!" the lieutenant beamed, a huge smile spreading across her face. "We're actually making friendly contact with people from another world!"

"It is pretty incredible, isn't it?" Bare agreed. "I'm just happy to know that peace really is possible. I've been in three different wars so far, so it's nice to see everybody getting along for a change."

Reynolds looked back at him, still smiling. "Oh? Is our big bad Bare secretly a softie at heart?" she teasingly asked.

"They call me Teddy Bare for a reason," the muscular man replied, taking her jab at him in stride. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to deliver this log to the firewood shed. Nobody likes this sort of manual labor, so I figured I'd do my part to help out by sharing the burden. Enjoy your lunch, Lieutenant."

He left with the log in tow, waving over his shoulder without looking back.

Reynolds made herself comfortable against the wall, opening the bag of chips once she finished her sandwich. She giggled when she saw Dalton finally topple under the children's combined weight.

Between the note from her uncle and the friendly interactions between her Gears and the natives, it would take something utterly ludicrous to ruin her good mood.

* * *

 **(Road to Koan Forest, Two Hours Later)**

Private Gyules was bored.

The squad departed Koda Village half an hour ago and were now back on the road. Rudy was seated in the back of the lead Packhorse with Alec, with Bare driving and Reynolds riding shotgun. The lieutenant had lucked out when the village chieftain gave her a crude map of the surrounding area as a parting gift, along with directions to another settlement in a place called Koan Forest. While the chief confessed that he knew very little about the other settlement's inhabitants, he promised Theta that neither side would come to harm.

Gyules knew the mission was proceeding flawlessly so far, and that he should be in high spirits because of that, but his mood was still sullen. Not one of Koda's residents knew where to find a catgirl. And to make matters worse, he was still bored.

"I'm bored!" He voiced his plight out loud.

Reynolds sighed, and he heard her fold up the map she was examining. "Me too, Gyules. Staring at the landscape got dull the first hour after we left base." There were more sounds of crinkling paper before she spoke again. "Forgive me for sounding unprofessional, but we'll need ways to keep ourselves entertained between these long road trips. Any suggestions? Books, maybe?"

"I wouldn't recommend that unless you have a strong stomach," Dalton advised. "I tried binge reading comic books on a train when I was eight. One minute I'm fine, then boom! Vomit everywhere."

Gyules laughed at the memory. It was the day after they first met, when he and Randy invited Alec into their family while they made the journey to Jacinto. The puke-stained cabin was obviously disgusting to think about, though he reflected on the flashback with nothing but fondness.

It was the day the three of them became barf brothers.

"Ugh, yeah, good point. Don't need anyone getting nauseous." Reynolds shuddered.

"We could always play some music," Bare threw in. "I severely doubt this world has radio stations, but I think I can scrounge up my old CD player. Pretty sure it still works…"

Reynolds nodded in agreement. "Music, definitely. I don't care what genre you guys like, as long as it lasts until we reach our destination. Remind me to make a list later."

"Ooh! I know!" Gyules suddenly perked up when an idea came to him. "How about we sing a song to help pass the time?"

Dalton snorted. "After the last time? No way."

"I'll pass. I don't have much of a singing voice." Bare declined.

Reynolds shrugged, turning in her seat to face him. "I'll bite. What song did you have in mind?"

Wait, she was agreeing to sing with him? Rudy cheered inside his mind; this was the perfect chance to demonstrate the superiority of Eastern culture to everyone in the jeep! And she was their commanding officer, too, so that just made it even better!

"Are you familiar with the _Mei Com_ theme song?" he inquired.

Across from him, Alec buried his helmeted face in his hands and groaned. Hmph. He was just in denial. Rudy would convert his best friend, one of these days.

"Um… no?" Reynolds responded hesitantly.

"Don't worry! I'll teach it to you!"

Alec groaned louder as Gyules cleared his throat and began to sing:

 _"_ _Right now, Meikon! Meikon!_

 _Here we go, right now, Meikon! Meikon!_

 _Spread their wings, see them fly!_

 _Magical girls soaring through the sky!_

 _Right now, Meikon! Meikon!_

 _Everybody, Meikon! Meikon!_

 _Evil villains, you're out of luck!_

 _No way these chicks will let you-"_

 _"_ _I SWEAR TO GOD, WEEB, IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP RIGHT FUCKING NOW, I'LL SHOVE MY GUN SO FAR DOWN YOUR THROAT YOU'LL BE SHITTING BULLETS!"_ Weaver screamed into Rudy's helmet radio.

The young soldier winced. Heheh… uh… whoops. He must've accidentally opened a channel to the other jeep's occupants at some point.

 _"_ _Sorry about that, mate."_ O'Nellis apologized a moment later. _"Word of advice – don't ever wake Vinnie when he's napping."_

Reynolds noticed he'd abruptly stopped singing and frowned in mild concern.

"You okay, Private? Not that I'm complaining or anything, but why'd you stop?"

"…I forgot the rest," Gyules fibbed.

* * *

 **(Koan Forest Outskirts, Nightfall)**

The plan was originally for the Gears to set up camp when they reached the forest's border, Sergeant Weaver recalled. It wouldn't have done them any good to wander into unfamiliar territory without a good night's rest beforehand. Additionally, if they just moseyed into the next settlement without warning in the dead of night, they risked spooking the locals, and that wasn't something any of the squad wanted.

However, as the saying went, "no plan survives contact with the enemy". Or in this case, "no plan survives contact with a fucking dragon".

"Is that a real d-d-dragon? Like the ones f-from the fairy tales?" O'Nellis squeaked. The poor woman was visibly shaking in her armor, clutching tightly to Vinnie's side even as he wrapped a comforting arm around her waist.

The forest was burning. It wasn't the type of fire caused by a cooking mishap during a camping trip, either – everywhere he looked from Theta Squad's perch two klicks away were flaming trees. Massive plumes of smoke stretched high into the air, obscuring much of the nighttime sky in front of them.

It wasn't thick enough to hide the rampaging dragon flying above the forest's canopy, though. He'd gotten a fairly good look at it through his Longshot's scope; the fat lizard must've been at least twice the size of a Brumak or Corpser, and at least three times as deadly, since it was spitting fire hotter and more frequently than his old drill sergeant when he first enlisted in the army.

Weaver almost wished he was back in the Slab, even if it was just a pile of rubble by now. He'd rather take his chances with the other inmates than deal with an honest-to-god mythical monster.

"Bare, what sort of firepower are we packing?" As always, it was Reynolds who took charge of the situation. He wondered if she noticed her accidental pun. Probably not.

"One fifty caliber turret, one Mulcher, one Longspear, and whatever it is we're carrying," the Master Sergeant listed. "We might be able to injure it, but I can't say I'd like our odds in a fight."

"I am _not_ going in there." Dalton stated.

Vinnie didn't blame the kid for speaking out of line. Hell, if Reynolds decided to channel the spirit of his previous CO and order the squad to charge in, he would've grabbed Faith and ran the opposite way as fast as possible.

The dragon roared in the distance, making O'Nellis flinch in fear and adding even further incentive to that plan.

"It's unusual behavior for an animal to destroy a habitat for no reason." Hutch interjected.

" _Everything_ about this situation is unusual, doc!" Weaver sarcastically pointed out.

The medic ignored him and kept talking. "Remember, we've been informed there was a village somewhere in this forest. I hypothesize that the dragon is currently attacking it, or perhaps making it impossible for the residents to escape before it can get to them."

"I changed my mind. If anybody wants to try and save the civilians, I… I wouldn't back out," Dalton said, although the nervousness in his voice betrayed his brave façade.

"What should we do, Lieutenant?" Gyules inquired. Six pairs of eyes turned as one to look at their leader.

Reynolds lowered her gaze to the ground, deep in thought. Weaver prayed she would make the right decision. There was nothing heroic about sending an entire team to their deaths – he and Faith knew that better than anyone.

It was part of the reason he was imprisoned, after all.

"…We'll camp here for tonight. If the dragon's gone by morning, and the fire's settled down enough, we'll try to find the village." The blond Gear sighed, raising her head. "Believe me, I want to save as many people as I can. I do. But the team's safety comes first, and I don't want to rush in without knowing how powerful this thing really is."

Weaver smirked, and he felt O'Nellis relax a bit against his chest. _Good call, Reynolds. Not that I would've helped if you_ did _decide to go in. You're already a cut above the last jackass I served under._

The rest of Theta nodded, some more somberly than others.

Reynolds continued, "I know this is a hard decision, but it's for the best. Who wants first watch?"

"I'll do it." Weaver offered with a lazy wave.

* * *

Three hours passed and Vinnie was still on watch. The dragon, apparently satisfied that the forest was thoroughly destroyed, had flown away about twenty minutes earlier, leaving the disgraced sniper to gaze out unobstructed into the valley of burning trees.

He blocked the mental image of fresh corpses digesting in the red beast's stomach. There was nothing they could've done to save the villagers.

"Wonder how much ammo it'll take to kill that thing," he muttered, sitting down on the grass and stretching his lanky limbs.

Luring the dragon back to base so their defenses could take care of it wouldn't work. Even though the COG forces stationed there could likely reduce it to mincemeat in seconds, the base was simply too far away to be of any practical use. Plus, Vinnie wouldn't bet on either O'Nellis or Bare dodging the dragon's fire breath for the whole eight-hour drive back.

Maybe they would never see the overgrown lizard again. That was also an option, if an unrealistically optimistic one.

Weaver didn't react when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching him from behind. Lieutenant Reynolds appeared on his right side a few seconds later, joining him on the grass in a cross-legged position.

The two Gears watched the inferno that had once been a lively forest for several minutes. Neither one of them spoke. Eventually, Vinnie pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to his new companion.

"Wanna smoke?" he asked.

Reynolds lifted a hand and shook her head. "No thanks. I'm trying to quit." She politely declined.

"Suit yourself." Weaver shrugged, lighting the cigarette and popping it in his mouth. No need to waste it when he already had it out.

The silence between them stretched on for another couple of minutes. Vinnie was fine with it, if he were honest. He wasn't much of a talker except when he and Faith were alone, and even then, it was always the spotter who kept their conversations going.

Reynolds began to squirm in place. Either she really needed to use a restroom, or she was steeling herself to talk to him again about something. Either way, she was struggling to hold something in, and Weaver didn't think he would like whatever it was that came out.

"I want to know the full story, Sergeant Weaver."

Dammit. There were plenty of good bushes in the area, too, and he wouldn't have peeped if nature was indeed calling. Vincent Weaver was a lot of unpleasant things, but a perverted sicko wasn't one of them.

"'Bout what?" he stalled, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"You know damn well _what_ ," Reynolds snapped, glaring daggers at him through the fire's illumination. The sniper was careful to maintain a bored expression. If she got pissed at him, then whatever happened next wouldn't be his fault, and O'Nellis wouldn't yell as much if she was woken up.

"No, I don't. Enlighten me." He drawled.

The lieutenant had to take a few calming breaths before she could speak again.

"I want to know why you murdered your former commanding officer."

Of course she did. Jeez, you kill _one person_ the world would be better off without, and you're suddenly branded as an irredeemable traitor.

Hard to believe three years had passed since the murder, Weaver mused. It felt like only yesterday that he put a pistol round through Major Quinley's eyes.

"I'll tell you the same thing I told High Command: the guy was a glory-hungry sonofabitch who would've let O'Nellis and I get butchered if it earned him a medal." He said bluntly. "I confronted him over it, he got violent, and I pulled a gun. If you want the details, you know where to ask for them."

He exhaled a steady stream of smoke. "But that ain't what you're concerned about. I know what you're really afraid of, Lieutenant. Don't be."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Reynolds demanded.

"I'm saying you have nothing to worry about with me… besides my charms, of course." Weaver grinned, wiggling his eyebrows beneath his hat. He chuckled when Reynolds made a face.

"Look, I killed him because he was a loose cannon of an asshole." He told her in all seriousness. "If he was in your position right now, he wouldn't have hesitated to send the whole team into the forest while the dragon was still there. But you? You analyzed the situation and determined that we all would've died."

"…That bad, huh?" she whispered, referring to the late major.

The ex-convict nodded. "Yeah. He got shit done, I'll give him that, but the casualties were just too high for those under his command to accept. He wasn't above using meat shields, either."

"And O'Nellis? What did she think when you… you know, killed him?" Reynolds pressed.

Vinnie glanced back at the sleeping forms of Theta Squad, his eyes lingering over one person in particular; the only Gear who stood firm and didn't crack under the weight of Chairman Prescott's interrogatory questions. He'd never felt so grateful to have someone like her in his entire life. He just couldn't stand the thought of losing her on some suicide mission.

"Faith still puts up with me, right? That should tell you enough." Weaver answered.

"She means a lot to you, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, 'course she does. She's the only person I like and not just tolerate."

Reynolds' posture loosened, and he could barely make out a ghost of a smile cross her face. "Is that true, Sergeant? What are your thoughts on the rest of us, then?"

"Let's see…" Vinnie held up a hand and counted on his fingers. "You're an uncle's girl, Bare is an edge lord, Dalton's too soft, Hutch is fucking creepy, and Gyules is a weaboo of legendary proportions. Did I miss anyone?"

"Nope, that's all of us!" Reynolds covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. "And don't you badmouth my uncle. He's the most bitchin' relative a girl could ask for."

"Whatever." Weaver extinguished his cigarette and stood up to leave.

He paused before heading back to the campsite, looking down at his new CO.

"Listen Reynolds, I, uh… fuck, what do you want me to say? I know I'm not an easy person to get along with, and I ain't changing the way I act so people will like me. And we both know I've done bad things to stay alive. But as long as you don't needlessly endanger us, I won't cause you any problems. Nothing I can't fix on my own, anyway."

Weaver started walking away after that, feeling more vulnerable than he had in weeks and determined to get some sleep, when Reynolds called out to him one last time.

"Sergeant Weaver?"

"Yeah, what?" he sighed in annoyance, turning back around.

Reynolds looked conflicted for a second. "I… I know you've gone through some difficult times lately."

Vinnie resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That was a fucking understatement if he ever heard one. If murdering his douchebag commanding officer, getting threatened with execution, and spending three years in Sera's toughest prison where the average life expectancy was one year was "difficult", then he'd hate to see what she considered a real challenge.

"If you have any concerns about anything, I'd appreciate you bringing them to me so we can work on a resolution. We're a team, Weaver. I might be in charge, but that doesn't mean I want you guys to blindly obey every order I give you. Even officers can be wrong sometimes." Reynolds said sincerely.

He didn't know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything. Instead he just nodded and left for the camp.

He silently cursed when it started raining an hour later.

* * *

 **(Koan Village Remnants, The Next Morning)**

Theodore Bare brought the Packhorse to a stop and stepped out of the driver's seat, soon joined by the rest of Theta as he observed the smoking remains of what had once been a thriving village.

There wasn't much left to see. The only signs that a village even existed here were a few ropes hanging from skeletal tree branches, smoldering piles of wood that might've previously been shacks… and the charred corpses of the dragon's victims, all of them twisted and melted beyond recognition. The air filter in Teddy's helmet was working overtime to prevent the miasma of smoke and death from reaching his nostrils.

"These poor people… It'll be a miracle if we find any survivors." O'Nellis said sadly.

"Ground's still hot," Dalton noted, shuffling from foot to foot.

When was it going to end? The Master Sergeant wondered despondently. How many more innocent people were going to die because he was powerless to save them?

All this muscle, all these weapons, all this training and fighting and bloodshed, and he couldn't even help save a simple village. Why couldn't the COG save anyone but themselves?

No, the Coalition wasn't the entity to blame – _he_ couldn't save anyone but himself. It felt like the weight of both worlds was resting on his shoulders, and he didn't think he could take much more before he collapsed.

Bare's fists tightened around his Mulcher's handles. He wasn't a savior; he was a killer. All he did was kill. Damn the Indies, damn the Locust, damn this world's invaders and damn the dragon that made him this way!

"Are you feeling okay, Sergeant Bare? You seem tense," Gyules asked worriedly.

Teddy let out a long, shaky sigh. "No, kid. No, I'm not okay."

Before the incendiary trooper could respond, Lieutenant Reynolds stepped forward and swiveled around to address the squad, unholstering her Mk. 1 Lancer assault rifle as she did so.

"Listen up, Theta Squad!" she yelled, her voice echoing through the empty village. "Our new objective is to gather information on what happened here and find any clues that might lead us to survivors. Weaver, O'Nellis, search the area and see if you can figure out what the death toll is!"

"Yes, ma'am!" O'Nellis nodded, then jogged away in a random direction.

"Ugh, I hate getting stuck with corpse counting duty…" Weaver groaned, trudging after his partner.

"Dalton, Gyules, get an estimate on the number of structures here! You have permission to check the interiors if they look stable enough, but be extra careful!" Reynolds continued.

"Got it!"

"Sure thing, LT!"

Both privates saluted and left to carry out their assignment.

"Hutch, examine some of these bodies. See what you can learn from them!"

The medic nodded wordlessly, walked over to the nearest corpse, and knelt down to inspect it.

"Bare, I want you on security. Nothing gets in or out of this village without you knowing about it. Do I make myself clear?" Reynolds finished.

"Crystal," the tattooed Gear confirmed.

He spent the next half hour dutifully patrolling the village's perimeter, but if anything was still alive in the charred forest, he couldn't detect it. The only sound besides the crackling of dead branches in the stiff breeze was the occasional chatter of his teammates.

The whole location was eerily similar to Char, Teddy realized. The only difference was that the victims here still had their flesh, so they weren't damned to spend eternity as ashen statues.

He checked back in with Reynolds every now and then to provide status updates, and she in turn shared any information the squad had collected. Weaver and O'Nellis summed up a total of 27 corpses; too few to inhabit the 32 buildings Dalton and Gyules identified. Reynolds calculated that if three people lived in each building, it meant that roughly a hundred residents died – either from getting scorched by the dragon's fire breath, caught under the rubble of collapsing structures, or being eaten alive.

What interested him most were Hutch's findings. While most of the bodies were too burnt to properly identify, the stoic soldier noted that all of the more intact corpses possessed one common feature: signs of having long, pointed ears. Neither Bare nor Reynolds knew what this meant, but since once-fictional races like goblins and orcs were confirmed to inhabit the Special Region, they couldn't rule out the possibility that the destroyed village might have housed a population of other demi-humans.

"I'm going to go file a report for Captain Mayweather. If the dragon attacks settlements, we need to figure out where it's most likely to strike next." Reynolds said once she was done briefing him.

"Do whatever you have to, Lieutenant. I'm going to have a quick rest by the well." Teddy jerked his thumb in the direction of a circular stone well.

Reynolds nodded and left for one of the Packhorses, Retro Lancer still in hand. She was on edge, he could tell. He didn't envy her.

Bare sat down at the edge of the well, inspecting a nearby bucket attached to a rope that somehow managed to avoid getting burnt to ashes in last night's attack. He briefly entertained the idea of filling it up over and over again to douse the lingering embers around the village, but ultimately decided against it. It wasn't like there was anything left worth saving. _Again…_

He grunted loudly. The sight of the bucket was bringing back his earlier thoughts and making him upset again. He needed to get rid of it.

Teddy stood up, marched over to grab the offending piece of wood, and chucked it into the well.

 _Clunk!_

…What was that noise?

He slowly crept back to the well, drawing his sidearm as years of combat experience kicked in. He'd left his Mulcher on the ground next to it; he could easily grab the weapon if he needed to, although trying to fit a machine gun's barrels down a small hole didn't sound like an appealing prospect.

Bare reached the lip of the well and peered inside. When he saw what – or rather _who_ – laid at the bottom, his eyes widened in shock.

"Lieutenant, get over here! We have a survivor!"

* * *

 **You knew it had to happen.** ** _I_** **knew it had to happen. It's not really Gears of War until a Carmine dies.**

 **I wasn't kidding when I said Episode 2 would be a goliath. If I combine this chapter with the last one, it would probably total around 19,000 words in length. I might have to split the chapters again, or I might not – it all depends on what happens in the episodes I'm writing for. …Yeah, it'll probably happen again.**

 **Theta Squad has been formed and is ready to kick some ass! Their interactions were hilariously entertaining to write, and they'll get even better as the story progresses, I guarantee it. Having seven main characters to write for instead of one is waaaay more fun. Plus, it leads to more character development later on, which means extra scenes to write for!**

 **Time to answer more of those sweet, sweet reviews:**

 **Guest: I like to call what I'm doing "expanding on the source material". The general plot will remain the same, but I plan to make some edits to scenes that felt awkward or uninteresting, and occasionally throw in some original scenes.**

 **Wacko12: This chapter should've answered your question. RIP Carmine.**

 **ColonelStriker: A jewel, you say? You flatter me, good sir! I'm just expanding on all the wasted opportunities in the original series, as well as making it more badass. A lot of people only come to this site to read, but me? I'm here to teach myself how to become a better writer.**

 **JammyONE: I thought Duran was very likeable as a character, and deserved a more in-depth role in the battle. As for the sign… Corporal O'Nellis mourns it to this day.**

 **I worked extra hard to make a long chapter, so reviews would be a great satisfaction to me. It could be about anything: Predictions for the future? Favorite squad member, and why? Thoughts on whether Dalton will ever be relevant again? I'm curious to know!**


	4. Small Allies, Huge Enemy

**I have no idea why Microsoft Word has been acting so glitchy for me lately. I noticed it was a bit laggy while I was writing the last chapter, but now it's crashing or doing something stupid every ten seconds. Ugh, modern technology…**

 **I DID NOT JUST OPEN SYSTEM 32, LAPTOP. STOP THAT.**

 **Ahem… anyway, not a whole lot to say about this chapter, which is ironic given how many important events happen in it. I mostly just want to get episodes 3 and 4 out of the way so I can start on the Italica arc, but I refuse to let the quality of this story drop as a result, so I'll make sure to put in just as much effort as I've been giving so far. And who knows, maybe a genius idea might crop up as I'm working on this.**

 **Music recommendation: "Peace Walker Battle 2 Theme", from** _ **Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker**_ **during the fight with the Fire Dragon.**

* * *

 **(Koan Village Remnants)**

Wesley Hutch couldn't believe his eyes.

All seven members of Theta Squad were congregated around the well at the center of the forest settlement's ruins, each of them staring down at the bottom of the pit with varying expressions of amazement and disbelief. They'd heard Bare's alarmed shout a few seconds ago and came over to investigate; however, once they got a good view of the lone survivor for themselves, not one of the team could find the correct words to properly describe her.

"Her" being a beautiful, pale-skinned girl, roughly sixteen or seventeen in age, with extremely long blond hair that lazily drifted in the shallow water at the bottom of the well. She was dressed in a simple green tunic that clung to her lithe body due to the moisture it absorbed, along with long green stockings and a small red neckerchief.

She was also unconscious, Hutch noted, likely from being hit in the head with the bucket Bare randomly decided to throw into the well earlier. Fortunately, her face was still above water level, so she wasn't in any immediate danger of drowning. Unfortunately, she'd also probably been stuck there since last night, presenting a much more urgent problem.

"You guys think she's okay?" Dalton broke the silence.

"Unlikely. If she survived the dragon's attack by hiding in the well, the chances of her acquiring hypothermia since then are logically high." Hutch replied in his usual emotionless tone.

Reynolds began barking out orders. "O'Nellis, head back to the Packhorses and find a rope! Hutch, go with her and grab any medical supplies you might need! Bare, how comfortable are you with small spaces?"

The medic turned and left before he could hear the master sergeant's response. Whatever his job might've been, it wasn't important to Hutch right now. All of his attention was focused on getting to the jeeps and bringing back everything that would help treat hypothermia.

He almost flinched when O'Nellis suddenly seemed to materialize out of thin air on his left side. Almost.

"That girl in the well… she was awfully quiet even before we found her, right?" the spotter asked him. "I didn't hear a single peep the whole time we were there. Do you think she might be…?"

"I don't know, and I'm not waiting to find out." Hutch said resolutely. He didn't _think_ the girl was already dead when they arrived, per se, but he knew she grew closer to death's door every minute she spent in the watery hole instead of dry ground. There were never any guarantees when it came to saving someone's life.

"Do you think she has anywhere else to go?" O'Nellis kept talking, to Hutch's mild irritation. "I mean, her village and all her friends and family who lived there are gone. Where's she supposed to stay now? How will she survive? Do you think the folks in Koda Village will let her move in if we bring her to them?"

Hutch glanced at his squadmate. She sure was a chatty one. How on Sera did she and Weaver get along so well? "I don't know the answer to any of those questions, and right now, they aren't something we should be dwelling on. Our priority is to get her out of the well and make sure she's stable. I suggest we make haste on that and not waste time with unnecessary conversation."

"Are you telling me to shut up?"

"Yes."

O'Nellis huffed indignantly but didn't say anything further. Hutch found he was perfectly okay with that.

The duo soon reached the parked Packhorses, opening the back doors of the turret-mounted jeep they'd traveled in together to start gathering supplies. Wes immediately grabbed three military-issued blankets from the cluttered interior; he left his medical kit untouched, which must've confused O'Nellis if the odd sound she made was any indication.

"I know what I'm doing. Don't question it." He stated plainly. The female Gear shrugged, then reached in after him to grab a length of thick rope.

Once it was securely wrapped around her shoulder, the two soldiers shut the doors and began the short trip back to the village's epicenter. Hutch kept his eyes ahead of him at all times, although he glimpsed O'Nellis sneaking a few looks at him as they walked. He ignored her, just as he ignored everything that didn't have to do with the mission or his medical duties. Whatever she had to say could wait until after the survivor was rescued.

The private knew he was acting like a bit of a jerk, and that Weaver would likely hassle him over his treatment of his partner if he ever found out about it, though years of practice easily let Wes brush those concerns aside. He wasn't assigned to this squad to make friends. He was there to ensure none of them died prematurely, and that was it.

That was the type of existence he'd willingly condemned himself to live.

"Good timing, you two!" Reynolds greeted her fellow Gears once they made it back to the well. "Next, we'll lower Bare down into the well and pull him up when he's got the girl. O'Nellis, the rope?"

"Got it!" the spotter chirped, handing the rope over to Teddy so the big man could tie it around his waist.

The rescue operation went off without a hitch. While the master sergeant dwarfed his teammates in terms of both size and weight, the combined strength of six Gears holding the rope was more than enough to keep him steady as he slowly descended into the hole. When he called out that the survivor was secure thirty seconds after he reached the bottom, the team strained their muscles to lift them both out, and were rewarded when Teddy's helmeted head emerged from the depths with a certain blond resting over his back.

Hutch unfurled one of the blankets and instructed Bare to lay the girl down on it in a horizontal position. Now that she was above ground, the squad huddled together again around her prone form, mesmerized as the medic crouched down at her side to begin conducting his examination.

He started by checking her pulse. It was weaker than normal, but it wasn't life-threatening, and more importantly it meant she was still alive. The white-armored Gear breathed a huge sigh of relief inside his mind at the revelation. That being said, she wasn't out of the woods yet (no pun intended) – her condition could still worsen if she wasn't given first-aid treatment straight away.

He needed to get her out of her soaked clothes, to begin with. No sense keeping them on if they would only serve to make her ill. Hutch unsheathed a knife from his belt and held it close to one of her sleeves, pausing to glance back at Theta Squad before he cut any of the fabric away.

"She's alive, and apparently stable, but I need to raise her body temperature before the hypothermia really sets in. That involves removing her clothes. If any of you are uncomfortable with the sight of the female anatomy, I suggest you turn away."

Reynolds and O'Nellis departed almost instantly after the words left his mouth, followed by Bare a few seconds later. Weaver just shrugged and smiled pleasantly, though his smile quickly morphed into a pained expression accompanied by a startled cry when O'Nellis returned to drag him away by the scruff of his neck. Gyules was bouncing in place and probably grinning like an idiot under his helmet. Dalton placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, said something about giving Hutch some privacy to work, and led the dejected pyro somewhere else.

He overheard his fellow privates talking to one another as they left the scene:

"C'mon, dude! Didn't you see her ears? When am I ever gonna get another chance to see elf boobies?"

"Totally not my problem… hold on, didn't you have a fetish for catgirls?"

"It never hurts to keep your options open!"

While Hutch was a medical prodigy, he didn't believe any amount of treatment could cure Gyules' abnormal interests.

* * *

 **(Koda Village, Four Hours Later)**

The residents of Koda watched in fascination as Theta Squad's Packhorses parked directly in the middle of the settlement, just outside the village chief's home. It was understandable: they'd never seen such high-grade vehicles until yesterday, and would probably remain in awe of the jeeps and their occupants for a long time yet.

They still greeted the squad with friendly smiles and waves when the latter group stepped outside, though Lieutenant Reynolds only responded with a brief wave of her own before she began searching for one local in particular. It didn't take long to spot him despite his short stature – the chief was already approaching the team, having to push his way through the gathering crowd's legs before he reached them. He looked up at the blond Gear with a slightly puzzled expression.

"Reynolds! What brings you back here so soon? Weren't you and your soldiers heading to Koan Forest?" he asked.

Reynolds frowned sadly, thinking back to the destroyed settlement many miles away. Whoever lived there hadn't stood a chance against the fire-breathing monstrosity that snuffed out their lives with seemingly no effort, and she agreed with Weaver that Theta Squad would've all perished if they fought the dragon themselves. If seven armed Gears, most of them possessing years of combat experience, were reluctant to face it, then a defenseless village like Koda was certain to share the same fate as its neighboring settlement if the dragon showed up again.

"Forest burned. Village gone," she told him in the Special Region language.

"WHAT?!" The chief's eyes bulged out of their sockets. It was honestly a little frightening. "The settlement's been wiped out? What happened?!"

Reynolds had to get her notes out to keep up with him. "We saw large bird," she explained, substituting the word "dragon" for something less terrifying. She hadn't learned the proper translation yet – she didn't think she would've needed to. "Forest and village burned. Checked after it left."

The elderly man glanced around Courtney's frame to look at her team, silently asking them if what their leader said was indeed true. He received six different nods of confirmation.

"A fire dragon…" he breathed. "No… it can't be…"

Well, at least she now knew what the native word for dragons was. That might come in handy later.

"Fire dragon breathed flame. Burned up many people." Reynolds told him. She motioned for the chief to follow her to the back of the lead Packhorse and opened the doors, exposing the unconscious elf girl on the floor inside for all to see. She was wrapped snugly in no less than three blankets; only her angelic face and distinctive pointed ears were visible.

"We saved one girl," the lieutenant finished.

She'd ordered Hutch to move into the more spacious jeep to keep an eye on her condition. The medic managed to bring her body temperature back up to a safe level, as well as confirm that she hadn't suffered a head injury after the bucket knocked her out, but advised that they drive more carefully from now on to prevent her from jostling around too much. He'd warned them that any sudden, vigorous movements to her person risked triggering cardiac arrest.

Reynolds wanted to point out that they needed to reach Koda as soon as possible to inform the villagers about the dragon, but he was the medical expert, not her. Besides, the thought of arguing with a man who could stare down a dragon and not get scared promised nothing but headaches.

"Just this one girl?" the village chief echoed, gazing at the young elf with a mixture of sympathy and pity. "What a tragedy. I heard there were at least a hundred people living there."

"Can she stay in village?" Reynolds asked the million-dollar question.

She would respect his answer, no matter what it was. If the girl could stay here and make a new life for herself, then great, problem solved. If not, well… Uncle Maurice would know what to do. He wouldn't turn away a refugee if there was something he could do to aid them. And if it came down to it, the COG base was about as good a home as any village.

That plausibility became a likely reality when the chief shook his head in refusal.

"We can't take in an elf. Besides, we must flee this village while we can."

Well _that_ threw a wrench into things. Now that he mentioned it, Reynolds noticed the crowd from earlier had dispersed in a panic; all of the residents were now hurriedly stockpiling food, water, and other belongings into horse-drawn carts and wagons. Apparently, the mere mention of a dragon sighting was enough to warrant a mass evacuation.

"Huh? You abandon village?" Reynolds queried.

"We must," the chief replied, staring up at her again. "Once a fire dragon tastes the flesh of humans or elves, it will keep attacking villages and towns until its hunger is satiated."

The officer hesitated. "And… how long does that take?"

"Years, my friend. Years."

* * *

 **(Koda Village Outskirts)**

Nestled in a quiet grove away from the hub of Koda Village was a small cottage. There wasn't a whole lot to say about it, except that a miniature waterfall adjacent to it cast a pretty little rainbow for anyone outside to see.

"Dammit! Dammit all- WHOA!"

 _CRASH!_

Well, there was _one_ interesting thing to say about the house – it was the home of Cato El Altestan; a reclusive hermit, legendary sorcerer, and lecherous old pervert, all rolled up into one pint-sized package. Even the most uneducated peasants could tell he was a practitioner of the magical arts, due to the dark wizard's robes and pointed hat he wore, along with the catalyst he carried with him at all times.

His only company in the solitude of the grove was his apprentice, who stopped loading books into their cart to stare at her master as he lay groaning at the bottom of the cottage's front steps, surrounded by at least a dozen other dropped books on magical theory and spellcraft.

Lelei La Lelena tilted her head curiously, causing a few rays of sunlight to reflect off her light blue hair. She was dressed in simple yellowish-green robes with patches of white and blue, and matching traveling boots. Resting against the cart was Lelei's own catalyst; a wooden staff with an ornament resembling a large blue flower bud on one end.

"Are you okay, Master?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm fine…" Cato groaned, getting to his feet and cracking his back. "Ugh, if magic weren't such a sacred thing, I would've just levitated all these books over and been done with it."

"Why do we need these many books, anyway? You never read them," Lelei grilled him.

The old wizard shrugged. "I may not _read_ them, but that doesn't mean I don't _need_ them. Do you have any idea how many years it took for me to assemble this kind of library, Lelei? How long I've scoured every country in the Empire and beyond to collect these tomes? If what the villagers say is true, and the Fire Dragon really is coming for us, then countless years of knowledge will be burnt to ash unless we work to save it!"

"Master, half of these books have copies in Rondel. You know this. Arpeggio writes them," his apprentice reminded him, leaning down to help her teacher pick up the scattered reading material.

"…Doesn't mean I want to have to pay to get them all back…" Cato grumbled. "Just because I'm well-known, that doesn't mean I'm well-off…"

"Even still, I believe the cart is reaching its capacity. We soon won't be able to carry any more." Lelei said.

Cato moaned in despair, thinking of the absurd amount it would cost to get replacements for many of the books they left behind. He knew his young ward was correct, as she usually was, but that didn't mean he had to like it. "Fine, fine. We'll have to prioritize any irreplaceable books, then."

Both mages worked diligently to identify and pack up the most valuable tomes in Cato's collection after that. Once the cart was fully stocked, they secured the books by tightly covering them with a khaki tarp. Lelei hopped into her seat and took hold of the reins, then turned to look at her caretaker.

"Mount up, Master."

Even under dire circumstances, Cato couldn't resist pulling a fast one. "What kind of man do you take me for, Lelei? You know I'm not interested in mounting young girls. If your sister were around, however…" The old wizard's face flushed pink and he started drooling at the thought of his former second student.

Mmm, those curves…

He was so indulged in his fantasy that he missed how Lelei frowned and picked up her catalyst. The next thing Cato knew, he was being buffeted by a gust of freezing wind, courtesy of his teenage apprentice.

"L-Lelei, quit it! I was only kidding! You know magic is sacred; it must never be abused!" he pleaded, shivering and struggling to stay balanced as the wind relentlessly pounded him.

She obeyed, much to his immense relief, ceasing the spell without a word. She patted the free spot next to her on the cart, silently beckoning him to get on.

"Sheesh, you sure can't take a joke…" Cato grumbled as he sat down beside her.

"I blame you as my educator, Master." Lelei retorted.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's just get a move on."

The blue-haired girl cracked the reins, but the donkey pulling the cart didn't move. This obviously didn't go unnoticed.

"…He won't move." Cato said. "We must be carrying too much."

Lelei fixed her eyes on him, unblinking. If she was annoyed by his needless observation, she hid it well. "You were the one who said to pack all this. This was to be expected," she informed him.

The elder mage hummed in thought before he replied. "Not to worry, Lelei. I _am_ a sorcerer, after all!"

Ordinarily this would've been a problem, but Cato El Altestan was no ordinary man. He proudly brandished his catalyst, though what he planned to do with it was anyone's guess – maybe he had some epic spell in his arsenal that would get them unstuck, or perhaps his solution would boil down to poking the donkey's ass with the staff to get it moving. His eccentric nature made it hard to tell for certain.

Lelei's blank stare grew slightly wary.

"Isn't magic sacred? Something not to be abused?" she queried. "Those were your words, Master."

"But-"

"But in this case, we have no choice." She conceded. The younger mage drew her own catalyst and gave it a wave.

Suddenly, and with no logical explanation behind it, a pale blow glow coated the entire cart. What made the occurrence even more bizarre was that the cart was lifted an inch off the ground moments afterwards, allowing the donkey pulling it to move freely.

The two wizards sat quietly on their levitating cart for a few minutes before Cato spoke.

"Sorry about all that, my dear girl. You must understand, these books are very precious to me."

"Hmm? Oh, I don't mind." Lelei perked up in response. She'd looked a bit distracted during the ride, probably lost in her thoughts. "I've always known that this is simply how you are."

"…Is there something you'd like to discuss?" Cato asked, picking up on the anomaly in her behavior.

Lelei shook her head. "Nothing we haven't already been over."

* * *

 **(Koda Village)**

There were two things bugging her, Lelei reflected as the cart drew closer to the convoy evacuating the village. Two issues about the whole situation that just didn't sit right with her; that even Master Cato wouldn't have had a concrete answer for.

The first issue was, of course, the Fire Dragon's premature awakening. She'd learned from her master during their studies on wildlife that the dragon operated on a cycle of hibernation: it remained asleep for many years before awakening, then spent all its time consuming anything edible before once again entering a deep slumber. While it was nigh-unstoppable when awake and active, the Fire Dragon's sleep schedule was extremely predictable, leaving the citizens of Falmart with plenty of time to prepare for its hunger-driven outings. However, the beast seemed to have awoken fifty years early for unexplained reasons, thus necessitating their hasty withdrawal from Koda Village.

The second issue was tied to the location where the dragon was spotted yesterday. Apparently it was witnessed razing the neighboring settlement of Koan Village to the ground, but that was all Lelei knew. Both Koda and Koan were self-sufficient villages that generally never interacted with one another, which begged the question as to how the residents of Koda learned about the other settlement's destruction in the first place. The only logical explanation was that any survivors from Koan must've fled to Koda under the cover of night and warned the locals that the Fire Dragon had returned. It was a sound theory, but it wasn't perfect.

Lelei sighed. Life was so much simpler when she and Arpeggio were still nomads in the Rorudo tribe. While she was thankful to Master Cato for taking her and her sister under his wing to teach them the secrets of magic, her path as a mage led to a lot of strenuous thinking at times.

She'd have to uncover those mysteries at a later date, though. They'd reached the rendezvous point for the evacuating convoy, and right now getting to safety took priority over her own curiosities.

Her instincts immediately told her something was wrong.

"Damn, that's quite the line ahead of us." Cato noted. "Why aren't any of the wagons moving? Is there some kind of problem?"

The sound of a loud _snap_ , followed by the high-pitched scream of a child startled both wizards.

"What in Hardy's unholy name just happened?!" her master cried. Lelei's eyes widened and her posture straightened, though she remained silent.

A man in a farmer's hat ran towards them from somewhere up ahead. Lelei recognized him as the person who brought the wizard duo their daily supply of food and water, as well as the one who initially warned them about the impending threat of a Fire Dragon.

"Master Cato! Lelei! One of the carts was carrying too much; its axle broke, and it's blocking the way!"

Forget that, what about the scream they heard? Lelei was prepared start grilling the man for details when an unseen voice, probably belonging to an adult female, snagged her attention by calling something out in a language she didn't understand. Adding to her newfound confusion, a strange white creature resembling a golem suddenly rushed past their cart in the direction of the broken wagon.

"Huh? What's that?" The blue-haired girl leaned forward to try and get a better look at whatever that thing was. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the "creature" was actually a human clad in some sort of heavy white armor.

Lelei assumed he was a male, but who was he? Where had he come from? Was he responding to the woman's shout? She needed to find out more.

"Who was that just now? I've never seen a suit of armor like that before…" Cato observed.

"Master, I'm going to go take a look." His apprentice's curiosity got the better of her. Lelei jumped off the cart and jogged ahead, ignoring her master's shout of protest.

She knew there had to be at least two very foreign people here. Whoever they were, their presence in Koda Village during an evacuation couldn't be a coincidence. An even more pressing concern was that she still didn't have any details on the earlier scream – what if someone was in trouble? If there was anything she could do to help, then by the magic in her veins, she would do it. She could learn more about the mysterious visitors some other time.

Lelei shoved her way through the small crowd gathered around the broken wagon, taking in the scene before her.

The accident had occurred about thirteen wagons ahead of hers and Cato's. The cart had tipped over on one side, and the horse that drove it was on the ground, set free of its reins. The strangled whinnies it made told Lelei the animal was in a great deal of pain.

More alarming was the small girl laying on the ground several feet away from the group. She was hyperventilating, and her eyes were shut tight; Lelei couldn't tell if she was even conscious or not. The white-armored foreigner was at her side, hunched over with his back facing the crowd.

The young mage gasped lightly, breaking away from the others to crouch down next to the man. She mentally scrolled through her list of spells, searching for any that might be useful for healing.

"Not safe. Must leave now."

A heavy hand resting on her shoulder accompanied those broken words, prompting Lelei to glance behind her. She shrunk back in fear at the sight of a living _colossus_ looming over her.

* * *

Teddy Bare sighed in resignation at the blue-haired girl's reaction to his presence. His menacing appearance was a double-edged sword; while it was enough to demoralize most enemies, even the Locust at times, the sight of him also had the downside of easily scaring civilians.

Come to think of it… who _was_ this girl, anyway? Teddy didn't recall meeting her the last time he was in Koda Village, and he definitely would've remembered seeing aqua teal hair. Was she not from around here?

He mentally shook his head, brushing those thoughts to the side. There were far more important things to worry about right now.

"Hutch, how's the kid doing?" he called to his squadmate after helping the other girl to her feet. He kept the corner of his eye on her, just in case.

"Not good," came the medic's reply. "She must have hit her head when the wagon tilted over. She has a concussion. Possible skull fracture as well."

"Anything you can do?"

"I can give her acetaminophen if she regains consciousness to help ease any pain. Other than that, the best we can do is-"

An ear-splitting whinny cut Hutch off before he could finish. The wounded horse had regained its footing but was evidently still in a huge amount of pain – it went berserk the moment it was upright, and it was _much_ too close to the children and Gears.

Acting on pure instinct, Bare swiftly repositioned himself in front of the blue-haired girl, shielding her from the out-of-control animal with his massive frame. He shut his eyes and braced himself for the pain – he was strong, but the horse was stronger, and it could very easily injure or kill him.

 _BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!_

…That didn't sound like hooves breaking his ribs.

Bare opened his eyes and saw Hutch, still kneeling but with a smoking revolver in one hand, staring at the now-dead horse without a hint of fear in his posture.

"No. Bad horsey." He scolded.

Leave it to Hutch to punish anything that threatened his patients, the master sergeant silently mused.

He relaxed his muscles now that the danger was over, turning to check on the teenager he'd protected. She was shaken, but otherwise unhurt – thank goodness.

"You okay?" he asked.

The girl craned her neck to first look up at his concealed face, then over to Hutch, then back to Teddy. Her teal eyes were unblinking and wide as saucers.

"They saved me…" he heard her whisper.

* * *

Sergeant Weaver rested against a wall, arms folded and smoking yet another cigarette as he observed the convoy making its final preparations before departure. Sitting on a crate adjacent to him was Private Dalton.

After the incident involving Hutch and Bare, Lieutenant Reynolds ordered the squad to pair up in groups of two and spread out at intervals along the convoy to provide extra security. He'd wanted to go with O'Nellis, as he always did, but was shocked when his longtime companion decided to partner up with Gyules instead of him. She'd said something about branching out to make new friends – although why she was interested in befriending a tone-deaf weaboo, he had no idea. Even Vinnie wasn't sure what went on in that woman's head sometimes.

He spared a brief glance at the dweeb to his right. With Reynolds occupied talking to the village chief, that left Dalton as the only free alternative for a partner. He supposed he could've done worse. The kid did his job admirably; not only did he vigilantly watch the line of wagons for any sign of a problem, he also kept his mouth shut doing so, allowing Weaver's mind to wander in peace.

 _Let's see, four cigs a day from two packs of twelve… I've gone through six since we left base, including the one I've got now, so that leaves me with-_

"Do we have any kind of plan for the refugees?" Dalton suddenly broke the silence.

 _Dammit, Dweeb, you were doing just fine until now._

While he inwardly wished the private would shut up and go back to being irrelevant, he knew full well that he'd suffer the combined wrath of O'Nellis and Reynolds if he said those words out loud, and Vinnie _really_ wasn't keen on the thought of two angry women making his life miserable.

The sergeant grunted under his breath. Like it or not, he had an obligation to act like a proper superior, which meant he had to take the kid's question seriously and not needle him too much.

"I don't follow," he responded in his best uninterested tone of voice. If the dweeb was smart, he'd pick up on it and hopefully go back to being quiet.

"Like, long-term." Dalton turned his head to face him. Well, crap. Apparently he'd given the guy too much credit. "We're not going to be taking care of all these people forever, are we? Aren't there any lords or royalty around here who could take them in?"

"What do _you_ think?" Weaver's response came out a tad harsher than he meant it to be. He really wasn't good at this whole 'role model' schtick.

Dalton didn't seem fazed, however. "I don't know. That's why I'm asking you."

Vinnie gave his younger squadmate a long, calculating glare. It took a few seconds before a realization suddenly struck him: Dalton was serious about this, more so than the sergeant had ever seen him. Any trace of uncertainty or timidity in his body language was gone, replaced by a firm, unyielding determination to get the people of Koda Village to safety.

Unfortunately for the younger Gear, Weaver had seen this same conviction in a lot of recruits, and it rarely turned out well for them. They'd all enlisted hoping they could make a difference in the war and save everyone they met. Most of them were dead now, killed by their own idealism as much as Locust weaponry. Dalton would be in deep shit if he was headed down that same path; he'd pulled something heroic previously, which was all fine and great, but if he thought he was anyone special because of that, then he was in for a rude awakening.

In the end, Weaver concluded that the best thing to say would be the cold, hard truth.

"You wanna know what I think, huh?" he grated out. "I'll tell you. I think we're just gonna dump them off at the first safe place we find and be done with it. It doesn't matter how nicely they've treated us – their lives ain't our responsibility. We have enough problems on our hands to deal with as it is."

"But if their lives aren't our responsibility, then why are we escorting them?" Dalton countered.

Vinnie shrugged. "I dunno, because Reynolds wants us to look good for the natives?"

The kid brought up a good point, come to think of it. Why _was_ Theta Squad bothering to tag along with a band of evacuating civvies in what was essentially enemy territory? The best explanation he could think of was that word of mouth would spread regarding the COG's selfless actions afterwards, possibly swaying the general public into seeing them as something other than an invading army. He also theorized that the convoy had a possibility of getting attacked as they traveled; since Koda Village's residents were more or less completely defenseless, it made a lot of sense to enlist the Gears as guards seeing as they had unrivaled firepower. Or maybe there was no ulterior motive at all, and his teammates just pitied the villagers enough to lend a helping hand.

The ex-convict sighed. Pondering on the what-ifs was half the reason he took up smoking in the first place.

He decided to switch the subject. "You can ask her about it later. As for your question about the lords… well, they're all dead."

"Huh? What do you mean?" Dalton clearly wore a puzzled expression, even if his helmet blocked it from view.

"I overheard some of Reynolds' conversation with the chief earlier. I didn't understand most of it, for obvious reasons, but it seems like a lot of the enemy forces' commanders were also nobility." Weaver informed him. "If you can't see where I'm going with this, then you're a fuckin' idiot."

Dalton turned his gaze back on the line of wagons. "So what you're saying is, we killed off the people who could've given these villagers a safe refuge."

"Yes."

"Oh. Well… fuck."

He went back to being silent after that, like a good little private should, leaving Vinnie alone with his thoughts once more. The sniper was fine with that.

It gave him plenty of time to imagine all the different ways he'd murder Gyules if Faith started singing anime openings the next time they hit the road.

* * *

 **(Nightfall)**

Many miles away from Koda Village, clustered around a roaring campfire in an arid region, a band of unsavory folk were plotting their big move.

"It seems the whole of Koda Village is on the run!" one of the bandits said excitedly. "This is a good opportunity!"

"Do we have enough men?" another marauder asked.

"We can always find more," a third man stated. "There are plenty of stragglers left after the recent battle. Round them up, and we could take on not just a village, but an entire town!"

Most of the men cheered, but a few shuddered at the memory of the "recent battle" their comrade mentioned. They were a decent sized bunch, numbering around sixty in total, and all of them possessed military training that made them formidable adversaries. Even still, it appeared that some of the former soldiers still hadn't forgotten the magnitude of the slaughter at Alnus Hill.

Their pride was destroyed. Their purpose was muddied. Their will to fight was corrupted. All that remained of these once-proud warriors were empty husks that needed a victory – _any_ victory – to fill the hollow cavity in their chests.

If they couldn't kill the Blue Golems, then killing the bastard Emperor's subjects was the next best thing.

"We could overthrow the local lord!" someone exclaimed.

The bandits' leader, an unremarkable fellow in a gray headband, tilted his head back and sighed blissfully at the suggestion. The money, the women, the fine food… the thought of how fucking _pissed_ old Molt would be when he learned that a ragtag band of brigands swiped a piece of his precious Empire right out from under him. It was too perfect to believe, but the opportunity was there, tantalizingly within reach.

"From a bandit leader to a lord…" he whispered. "I _like_ it."

 _Schkt!_

The other bandits' optimistic expressions instantly shifted to horrified ones when they saw their leader's grinning head literally slide from his neck. His corpse hit the ground with a dull thud a second later, revealing the living nightmare standing directly behind his seat.

"Gentlemen…" a female voice crooned.

Illuminated by the firelight was a young girl who couldn't have been more than thirteen years old. She wore an elegant black dress with red frills, along with dark red boots and black stockings supported with garters. Atop her head of flowing black hair was a large bow closely resembling cat ears. Most disturbing was the weapon she carried in her right hand: a massive, dark purple halberd with snake-themed decorations entwined around each end of the shaft. Fresh blood dripped from the weapon's razor-sharp blade.

The youth licked her lips as her crimson red eyes swept across the group of horrified brigands, magically changing her pink lipstick to a foreboding shade of purple.

"Thank you for tonight," she continued in a low, sultry voice.

One of the bandits stood up and drew a sword. "Who do you think you are, you little bitch? You want a piece of us?!" he snarled, ignoring the warnings and pleas a few of his fellows sent his way.

He charged at the newcomer with a battle cry, but the girl wasn't fazed in the slightest. Instead, she smiled.

She swung her halberd in one swift motion, faster than the naked eye could see, instantly bisecting the man at the waist. Blood spattered across her uniform; however, rather than get upset over her clothes being ruined, her creepy smile merely grew wider.

"Thank you _very_ much for giving your lives so selflessly…"

 _Schkt!_

Another marauder was cut down before anyone even knew what happened. The remaining bandits all got up and backed away slowly, some of them drawing their weapons even though they knew it was pointless to fight back against this she-demon.

"The All-Father is very pleased with your actions. He now requests your presence."

Two more bandits were beheaded as she spoke. They were freaking out at this point, which seemed to amuse the preteen killer.

"I am Rory Mercury," she introduced herself, "Apostle to the Dark God, Emroy."

Nearly all of the brigands' faces turned sheet-white when the girl stated her name. They were aware now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were utterly and royally _fucked_.

One of the handful of men who didn't piss his pants scratched his head in confusion. "Uhh… you're the what to the who-now?" he asked dumbly.

"She's one of the Twelve Apostles! Death God Rory!" Another person helpfully filled him in.

"She's… She's wearing the Emroy shrine oracle uniform!"

"RUN!" someone cried.

Nobody needed to be told twice on that one. The brigands scattered like leaves in the wind, running as fast as their legs could carry them from the incarnation of death who stumbled across their campsite. Most of them ran in no particular direction, only knowing they had to get _away_ from the young reaper before she could seal their fates.

Rory grinned as she watched them try and flee, readying her halberd as she prepared to chase after them.

"Oh, I don't think so…"

She took off in a blur of motion, slicing through three men with the first swing of her weapon. The Apostle of Death then slammed the halberd into the ground, sending chunks of rock into the air; another swing sent the debris flying toward a tightly-knit pack of bandits, impaling some and knocking the rest off their feet. It didn't take long to end their pathetic lives afterward.

Rory bobbed and weaved through the terrified bandits' ranks, gruesomely eviscerating each marauder with a series of acrobatic flips, kicks, and slices. She heard no less than six ribs crack when her boots impacted against one man's chest – a new personal record for her. Mortals were so squishy, and unlike her and the other Apostles, they couldn't regenerate all their wounds in seconds. Plus, the vast majority of them lacked the strength to properly fight back, a fact that was definitely working in Rory's favor right now.

A cheerful laugh echoed over the sound of rending flesh and the bandits' dying screams.

* * *

 **(The Next Day)**

"C'mon, Gears, keep pushing! Put some backbone into it!"

"I – _ugh_ – I _am_ pushing!" Dalton grunted, heaving with all his might.

"This would be so much easier if I didn't have such noodly little arms…" Gyules wheezed.

Lieutenant Reynolds grit her teeth and pushed harder against the back of the stuck cart. They'd sent a message down the line of wagons to watch out for this particular patch of mud on the road, but apparently one of the drivers hadn't gotten the memo in time. Now they had to circle the Packhorse around and help get the cart's wheels back on solid ground.

Unfortunately, the cart remained firmly planted in the muck despite the best efforts of Dalton, Gyules, and herself, much to Reynolds' immense frustration. No matter how hard they tried, it just wouldn't budge. She was ready to give up and think of an alternative plan when a pair of heavy footsteps caught her attention.

"Need some help?" Bare offered, approaching the struggling trio from the parked jeep nearby.

"Would you mind? This is ridiculous," the officer panted in exhaustion. She was tough, nobody would argue that, but she just wasn't built for handling heavy objects.

If only the Special Region had radios, she thought bitterly. Then this probably wouldn't have happened, and they could all resume their journey to wherever the hell they were going.

"You three step back. I'll handle this." Bare assured them. Once they complied, the master sergeant rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles, then glared at the immobilized cart.

Then he charged forward and _rammed_ straight into it, causing everyone watching to recoil in shock. Astonishingly, the impact succeeded in dislodging the cart, sending it wheeling forward a few inches. The horse at the front of the wagon, mildly spooked though seemingly noticing it was no longer stuck, took the rest from there.

Bare turned to face his squadmates, massaging one of his enormous shoulders. "There. That did the trick," he quipped.

"…We loosened it." Dalton grumbled.

The older Gear chuckled heartily at the comment as the group made their way back to the Packhorse. The only occupants left in the vehicle were Hutch and the elf girl, who still hadn't awoken.

"Status update, Private Hutch." Reynolds ordered while she strapped herself in.

"Her vitals are steady." The medic reported. "She should regain consciousness soon."

"Glad to hear it. Bare, how are we on fuel?"

"Don't worry about it, Lieutenant. There's enough Imulsion in the tank to last us a whole week." Teddy answered.

Reynolds nodded, making herself comfortable while the heavy weapons specialist ignited the engine and began the drive back to the front of the convoy.

She wouldn't admit it, but the mass evacuation of Koda Village left a sour taste in her mouth. It was an exact mirror of how the COG responded every time the Locust Horde popped their heads above ground in a human city: drop everything and run. Don't try to fight back, don't try to hide until it's over – just get the hell out and hope there's a place to fall back to. They'd employed that strategy for years, again and again, until there was nowhere left to escape to. Jacinto truly was the last bastion of humanity on Sera. If it fell, then the fate of not only one world, but possibly two, would be set in stone.

Come to think of it, if the Coalition ever met the person or people responsible for the gate invasion, that information could be a powerful bargaining chip towards brokering peace. Although the Special Region's population didn't know it – yet, anyway – the COG army was the only thing keeping away a potential invasion by the Locust.

She definitely wouldn't object if the government decided to pursue a peace treaty with this land's ruling body at some point in the future. True, the Gears were a force to be reckoned with thanks to their superior training and equipment compared to the enemy's; on the other hand, there was no way they could endure forever if pitted against every hostile army on the planet. Besides, staging a full-scale counter campaign would invariably lead to a bad impression.

Most glaring was the knowledge that the COG simply didn't have the manpower or resources to fight two wars at once.

She'd need to ask Captain Mayweather for his opinion when Theta returned to base. His word carried a lot of authority, especially since he was in command of all military activity in the Special Region. Maybe he shared his niece's sentiments; if he did, then perhaps he could convince Chairman Prescott to formulate a less bloody solution to the mysteries behind the gate.

Courtney continued to ponder the various outcomes of their expedition for a few hours. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice Bare calling her name until he roughly shook her by the shoulder.

"Lieutenant Reynolds!" he yelled forcefully into her ear.

"Huh? Why are you yelling? What did I miss?!" Theta's leader sat up straight, suddenly focused and alert. Judging from his tone of voice, whatever was going on was more urgent than the need for a roadside bathroom break.

Teddy gestured to the Packhorse's window. "Take a look. See for yourself."

She did, and her heart dropped when she saw the scene outside. They were facing a wagon that had gone a small amount off-road; the chief of Koda Village was standing next to it, accompanied by a young family of three. She immediately realized what the problem was – the wagon's axle had broken.

"Son of a bitch…" Reynolds sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was the second time that particular accident had happened in two days. "Are there any injuries?"

"Not that I can see." Bare shrugged.

The officer tapped her chin, processing this information before she reached a decision.

"Hutch, stay in the jeep. The rest of you, come with me. I want this resolved ASAP!"

She was already halfway out the door before she heard their affirmative responses. The chief turned to watch her approach, wearing a grave expression.

"What happen?" she asked him, switching to the native language.

"This family's horse went off the road to graze. The wagon must've hit a bump and broken something," the short man explained.

Reynolds frowned. "Spare parts?"

"None, I'm afraid."

She wanted to yell at someone. Did nobody predict this kind of thing might happen? Did _none_ of these people bring extra supplies to fix their carts in case they broke down? Hell, half the crap stored in O'Nellis' Packhorse consisted of spare car parts, just in case Theta Squad ran into the same issue. How did none of the villagers think to do the same?

Because they're villagers, she told herself. Villagers who lived in a small, rural area who never expected the need to suddenly get up and leave. She couldn't blame them in hindsight for being ill-prepared for such a long journey.

The lieutenant exhaled a long, slow breath, placing her hands on her armored hips. She needed to think about this more rationally.

"No can stay?" she asked the chief.

He shook his head, then turned his attention to the wagon's owners. "We would only be waiting to die if we stayed. Shoulder what you can and keep going. Bring the horse if you're able to."

"But… but all of our valuables are on that cart! We can't just leave them behind!" the father of the family protested.

"I'll say it again: we'll _die_ if stay! Either you take what you need to survive and move on, or wait here for the Fire Dragon to get you!" the chief shot back. He spread his arms to indicate the grassy plain surrounding them. "Besides, look around you! What do you intend to do? Start a new life in this very spot? How would you provide for your family?"

The younger resident lowered his head in defeat. "I… all right."

He moved away from the group with a downcast expression. His wife and child followed after him, and together they started collecting whatever they needed for the long haul.

Once again, Reynolds reflected on how difficult life was for a refugee. She'd been much the same in her later youth, always bouncing from place to place, trying in vain to flee from the genocidal race of monsters hell-bent on hunting down and exterminating every last scrap of humanity. First, she lost her valuables; then, her parents. By the time she reached Jacinto City, she had nothing left except the clothes on her back, a chip on her shoulder, and an uncle who would one day groom her into a hardened soldier. She understood how difficult life could be, and how sometimes you needed to make difficult decisions for the better good.

She was about to make one of those decisions now.

"Private Gyules," Reynolds said calmly, not taking her eyes off the somber family packing their belongings. "Once they're finished, I want you to torch the wagon."

"W-What? Why me?" she heard him stutter out.

"There's still a chance they'll refuse to part with their valuables. Make sure there's nothing left to leave behind."

The lieutenant looked back when Gyules sighed miserably. She hated ordering him to do that, but he was the one with the Scorcher, and she wasn't going to waste explosives on a broken wagon. He'd get over it eventually. Gears always did.

Private Dalton gave his friend a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Try not to sweat it, dude. Would it cheer you up if we sang _Mei Com_ later?"

Hell, she wouldn't complain if they did. Reynolds was willing to temporarily lift the "no singing" rule she'd imposed a couple of days ago if it boosted their morale.

* * *

 **(Two Hours Later)**

Even though Dalton tried his best to brighten the mood, the atmosphere in the jeep had taken a nosedive. Gyules hadn't even finished the first verse of his favorite song before clamming up and staying silent. Hutch was no help either, though Sergeant Bare knew lifting spirits wasn't the medic's strong point. Reynolds, for her part, was asleep in the passenger seat; she was likely tired out after all they'd went through today, the master sergeant figured.

Teddy adjusted the dashboard mirror to look into the vehicle's rear compartment, frowning when he saw Gyules staring blankly at his weapon. The kid was normally always so upbeat – it pained Bare to see him this downtrodden. While he agreed with Reynolds that burning the wagon was necessary, the youngest member of the team apparently wasn't emotionally equipped to deal with the tough choice.

"You did the right thing, kid." Bare told him, feeling like he should say something, _anything_ to help the private out.

"Then why doesn't it feel like I did?" Gyules sullenly replied.

"It rarely does. Sometimes people need to make decisions they don't morally agree with for survival's sake." Bare said wisely. "Take the Hammer of Dawn Counterattack, for example. I can't even begin to imagine how Prescott must've felt when he flipped the switch."

Dalton slammed his fist against the bench. "Dammit, I wish we had the Hammer in this world! Then we could've just erased that stupid dragon and none of this would be happening!" he angrily exclaimed.

"It's not that easy," Bare sighed. "The Hammer of Dawn is incredibly complex. We'd need to launch a satellite into the planet's orbit, among a ton of other obstacles. Such an undertaking would be too costly, as well as impractical since we haven't found a need for it here."

"Plus, it's meant to be a deterrent." Hutch threw in a rare comment.

The tattooed veteran nodded. The Hammer was a weapon of last resort; while the Locust forced the COG's hand with their sheer numbers and ruthlessness, the humans of Sera hadn't yet encountered a foe in the Special Region they couldn't defeat conventionally, the Fire Dragon being the only possible exception. Even then, setting up the orbital laser network in a new world for the purpose of killing one creature was complete overkill.

"Do you think it would make a good deterrent against this world's armies?" Dalton asked.

Bare sighed again, staring out at the seemingly endless road. He had no doubts that Dalton was a good guy, but the kid had a lot to learn about-

Wait… what was that, up ahead?

"Hold that thought." Bare held a hand up, then used that same hand to shake Lieutenant Reynolds awake. "Lieutenant, wake up. There's something you need to see."

"Ugh… what is it this time?" she groggily replied.

 _"_ _What's the holdup, big guy? Why are we stopping?"_ Weaver said into Teddy's comm unit as the older man slowed the Packhorse to a halt.

"There's a contact in front of us," he answered both of them.

He squinted, trying to get a better look at whoever was blocking the road. A murder of crows hid the person from full view, which raised a few flags in Teddy's mind – crows didn't normally surround people like that, did they?

He reflected on the abnormal behavior until, without any warning, the crows flew away, revealing a young girl wielding a _huge_ medieval halberd. She was crouched on the dirt, smiling at the approaching convoy, but made no threatening movements.

Bare had trouble putting the sight into words. He blinked. "Uhh… okay then."

"Who the heck is that?" Reynolds inquired, also noticing the strange newcomer.

"Well, um…" Teddy fumbled, still attempting to find a proper description. "It appears to be a girl wearing a frilly black dress, and holding a-"

"GOTHIC LOLITA? WHERE?!"

"What the _fuck_ -?!" Bare flinched and leaned away when Gyules suddenly jammed himself between the front seats, all traces of his earlier depression instantly gone. He heard the private gasp in delight.

"She's adorable! Like something straight out of my manga collection! Things are looking up for ol' Rudy!"

"Dalton, control your friend!" Reynolds cried, struggling to shove Gyules back into the rear of the vehicle.

"I can't! It's impossible to restrain an otaku when they see something they like!" Dalton said helplessly.

"I can forcibly sedate him if you want." Hutch offered.

This was all getting too weird for Bare. He stepped out of the Packhorse and shut the door, still able to hear the muffled yells of his teammates. They were certainly an interesting bunch, if nothing else.

A group of five children suddenly rushed past him in the new girl's direction, shouting a word Teddy wasn't familiar with over and over again. The heavy weapons specialist watched curiously when they were joined shortly after by several adults, who all fell to their knees and clasped their hands in the girl's presence, as if they were praying to her.

"They're saying 'oracle'," Reynolds' voice stated next to him.

Bare turned to look at her, asking a silent question.

The blond woman smirked. "If you're wondering what I did with Gyules, I threatened to stick him in a Packhorse alone with Weaver if he didn't get a hold of himself. I don't think they like each other very much." She then gestured to the youth in black. "As for this, though… I have no idea. Is she some kind of wandering priestess?"

"Maybe…" He honestly couldn't tell for sure. What sort of wacko religion gave a child an axe and a fancy dress, and sent them out to preach alone? It was a far-fetched and frankly inhumane theory, but it wasn't quite outside the realm of possibility, either. The COG still knew next to nothing about the Special Region's religious practices.

"I guess there's no way to find out unless we ask her ourselves," Reynolds deduced.

The two Gears walked forward, instantly catching the attention of the girl in the strange outfit.

"And who might these people be?" she asked the children. Oddly, her voice sounded a lot more mature than her appearance would suggest. Maybe she was going through puberty.

"These are the Gears, oracle! They're helping us get away from the Fire Dragon!" one kid eagerly responded.

"'Gears', hmm? I see…"

Her odd red eyes first swept over Reynolds, then Bare. The master sergeant was aware of how her gaze lingered on him for an uncomfortably long time. Something about this girl told him he shouldn't get on her bad side – it was probably the halberd, he reasoned.

"So they're not forcing you to leave your village?" the Lolita continued her questioning.

A little boy shook his head. "Nope! They've been super awesome ever since we met!"

The girl nodded, never losing the pleasant smile on her pale face. She sauntered over to the pair of soldiers and bowed lightly.

"It's a noble deed you're performing, helping these villagers when they have nowhere else to go," she said to them. "I approve. My name is Rory Mercury, Apostle of Emroy, God of Death. May I ask who you are?"

"Reynolds," the lieutenant greeted, placing a hand over her chest. She gestured to Bare next. "Bare."

"Call me Teddy," the hulking man responded. He'd understood very little of the conversation so far, though he knew a social cue when he heard one.

Rory nodded again, taking another minute to examine them from head-to-toe. She said something else; unfortunately, Bare was lost in the translation.

Reynolds, however, looked at him with wide eyes once the Apostle finished.

"She said she's heard rumors about a race called the 'Blue Golems', and that we fit the description perfectly," she clarified. "She mentioned how they held off a united army at a place called Alnus Hill."

So that's what the natives of this land called them, huh? Blue Golems – the name sounded powerful and mysterious. He liked it. And Alnus Hill? Well, at least now the COG could come up with a better name for their stronghold beyond the gate than "Special Region Forward Operating Base".

This girl, Rory Mercury, was surprisingly well-informed compared to the residents of Koda Village. Teddy accredited the fact to her possible status as a wandering religious figure. Now that he dwelled on it…

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked his superior.

"That we should invite her to tag along with us? Definitely. She could be a goldmine of information!" Reynolds agreed.

As Theta Squad's CO began talking with the girl in short, broken sentences, Teddy reflected on how potentially valuable this opportunity could be. If her title of oracle was any indication, along with how the locals prayed to her, then Rory was an important and respected figurehead in the Special Region. Gaining an ally like that would be a huge boon to their investigation. They wouldn't keep her for long, of course – Captain Mayweather knew better than to risk the natives thinking they'd kidnapped one of their priestesses. He'd probably ask her a few questions and send her on her way when he was finished.

Bare hoped he could learn the story behind why she carried a fucking _halberd_ before she left, though. That just wasn't right no matter how you looked at it.

Reynolds bumped his arm when she walked past him towards the jeep, Rory in tow. She smiled when Bare looked down at her.

"She's in. Let's get moving."

The trio climbed into the vehicle, with Rory entering through the back.

"Ooh! Ooh! Sit next to me!" Gyules patted the free spot next to him. "I promise I won't bite! Unless you want me to!"

Bare chuckled as he fastened his seatbelt. It was nice to see the kid's mood had improved, even if the circumstances behind it were a bit out of the ordinary.

He was about to start the engine, when suddenly…

"What the hell?!" Bare hollered, eyes bulging under his helmet.

Rory unexpectedly slithered through the gap between the seats and plopped herself down in Teddy's lap. She glanced back at him, briefly licking her lips, then began to curiously poke and prod at the jeep's controls.

Everything descended into chaos from there:

"H-Hey! Don't touch that! Get off of me!"

"What's this girl doing?"

"I don't know! Hey, keep your hands away from the pistol!"

"Master Sergeant, how _dare_ you touch her like that!"

"I didn't mean to!"

"No fair, Sarge!"

"Dude, quit acting like a pedophile!"

"I AM NOT ENJOYING THIS!"

* * *

Meanwhile, Weaver and O'Nellis were busy wondering why the Packhorse ahead of them was violently rocking back and forth.

"Ten bucks says there's some kind of messed up orgy happening in there," Weaver proposed.

"I won't take that bet, only because I totally agree with you." O'Nellis said.

* * *

 **(Roche Hill, Three Hours Later)**

The convoy had traveled to a barren, rocky area with zero vegetation. The hot sun beat down mercilessly on the refugees and their escorts. Corporal O'Nellis was thankful that the Packhorses came with air conditioning, although she felt slightly guilty using it, since the villagers had no choice but to grin and bear the heat. It might've just been her mind playing tricks on her, but the sun seemed hotter here than it did in Tyrus.

Normally the warm temperature wouldn't have bothered her. She grew up in central Kashkur, after all – if you couldn't take the heat, then you didn't really belong there, as her father always used to say. However, it was so damnably hot outside that Faith was forced to remove her helmet-mask hybrid just so she could breathe in the cool, crisp air circulating through the jeep. Removing the helmet's air filter _might_ have been a mistake in hindsight…

Vinnie wasn't faring much better. He'd removed his hat, but his dark hair still clung to his red, sweat-covered face. She'd heard him mutter something about lukewarm water a few times since they'd entered the arid environment.

"We've gotten pretty far from the village," the spotter noted, looking over at her partner.

"Yeah, no shit. I wish this evacuation was over already so I can grab a cold one." Vinnie replied.

His green eyes met her mismatched ones, and Faith couldn't help but smile at his blunt statement.

She knew it was an irrational fear, and that it wasn't really a big issue, but her closest friend was the only person she trusted not to make fun of her heterochromia – somewhat ironic, considering his prickly personality.

Faith was blessed with gorgeous facial features: a slim jawline, full lips, and a smattering of freckles across her upper cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Regrettably, those features were overshadowed by her blue left eye and brown right eye, a condition that earned her a lot of attention from bullies during her early childhood. Even though it largely subsided by the time she fully developed into a woman, the damage had already been done.

O'Nellis had entered into boot camp a withdrawn and lonely girl, until she met Vinnie Weaver. She thought he was kind of a dick at first, but she realized after a day or two that he was a dick to _everyone_ , not just her. He'd get into fistfights with the other recruits, argue with his superiors, call people derogatory names… the list went on. He was a fellow outcast; a kindred spirit who had trouble connecting with others.

It was this knowledge that motivated Faith to smuggle him some food one night after he was denied dinner for calling their drill sergeant a "'Roided-up ass clown". Ever since then, they'd forged an unbreakable bond. She was his voice of reason whenever he got too riled up, and in return, he kept her safe from any and all types of harm.

Her trust in him hadn't wavered when he was imprisoned for killing Major Quinley – quite the opposite, actually. She knew beyond doubt that the only reason he committed the crime was to protect her from a madman's ambitions. She didn't think she would ever be able to repay him in full for that.

"I hear you on that one. A fresh beer would be heavenly right about now," the corporal sighed wistfully.

"Don't rub it in. You're making me sad." Vinnie said half-jokingly.

O'Nellis laughed softly, then turned her gaze out the window.

Just how far was it to the next settlement? She didn't have a clue, and neither did Vinnie. They'd used up a decent amount of food and water already, and wandering through a desert region like this didn't bode well for the refugees. What if they came down with heatstroke? How would they feed their horses when there was no grass to graze on?

And… what was that thing flying towards them, silhouetted by the sun?

Faith shielded her eyes with her hand to see it clearer. It was a wyvern, although what it was doing this far out in the middle of nowhere, she had no idea. Perhaps it was starving and saw the convoy as an easy target for a snack. If that was the case, then she had no qualms about feeding it fifty caliber ammunition-

 _Chomp!_

A massive set of jaws clamped down on the wyvern and swallowed it whole. O'Nellis blanched when a terrifyingly familiar creature set one yellow eye on the convoy.

"Oh FUCK!" She slammed her mask over her face and screamed into the comms, "Lieutenant Reynolds, we have an emergency! The Fire Dragon's here!"

* * *

" _WHAT?!_ " Reynolds squawked, startling everyone in the lead Packhorse (except Hutch).

"What is it, Lieutenant? What's the problem?" Gyules asked, panic seeping into his voice.

"The dragon's found us! Hold on to your helmets, Theta!"

The Fire Dragon swooped down and landed on a cliff above the line of wagons; the force of its impact sent a tremor through the ground that every living being in a half-mile radius could feel. The beast inhaled sharply, opened up its maw, then unleashed a wave of deadly fire at the refugees.

"NO!" Reynolds wailed in despair. She could only watch helplessly as several wagons were engulfed in flames.

All the other carts immediately scattered in random directions, but in doing so, inadvertently placed themselves in even further danger. Axles snapped, horses tripped, and some people had no choice but to run on foot when their carts tipped over. Seizing this golden opportunity, the dragon took to the air again and flew low to the ground, incinerating every innocent person caught beneath its path.

It landed a second time once it carved a sufficient trail of destruction in its wake, roaring a challenge to any who dared to oppose it.

Reynolds was more than willing to accept that challenge. "O'Nellis, get on the turret! Hammer it with everything you've got!" she hollered into her radio.

 _"_ _I'm on it!"_

Next, she reached over to the steering wheel and repeatedly honked the horn, earning her a confused look from Bare.

"What the hell are you doing?!" their driver shouted.

"Buying the refugees some time! We need to distract this thing so they can escape!" Reynolds explained.

"Okay, but what about us?"

"Working on it!"

Sure enough, the blaring sound of the Packhorse's horn drew the Fire Dragon's attention to the vehicle. While it had no idea what the speedy thing was, the annoying noise it was making agitated the mythical creature greatly.

Ignoring the tiny projectiles bouncing harmlessly off its thick hide, the dragon opened its mouth and breathed another stream of fire at the jeep.

* * *

"Whoa, shit!" Bare cursed, swerving sharply to the right to dodge the dragon's breath.

The sudden momentum shift caused Private Hutch to slide down the rear bench and crash into Gyules. Perhaps more importantly, it was also enough to jostle a certain pointy-eared girl out of her days-long slumber.

The blond elf from Koan Village only took a moment to analyze her surroundings before springing to her feet – awake, energized, and also completely nude.

"Whoa, mama!" Dalton yelped, averting his gaze so he wouldn't see her indecency.

"BOOBIES!" Gyules helpfully exclaimed.

The elf darted around the vehicle's interior, taking only a second to examine each of its occupants. When she leaned over the space between the front seats – which gave the guys in the back a great view of her ass – the five Gears, plus Rory, collectively heard her gasp as she looked out the window. She must've recognized they were engaging the same dragon that destroyed her village.

She stepped back and looked at Hutch, pointing a finger at one of her crystal blue eyes.

" _Ono!_ " the girl said in her native tongue. " _Ono!_ "

Understanding dawned on Hutch's features beneath his helmet. He wasted no time opening a comm channel to O'Nellis.

"O'Nellis, this is Hutch. I recommend targeting the dragon's eyes."

The corporal's accented voice was barely audible over the racket of her turret. " _Oh? Should I consider this to be doctor's orders?"_ she snarked.

"…Just shoot it." Hutch deadpanned.

Whatever her reply was, the medic didn't pay it any attention, since Rory apparently chose that moment to act completely suicidal. The diminutive reaper unlatched herself from Bare, picked up her halberd, then kicked open the back doors and jumped out into the fray.

* * *

Private Dalton was inwardly freaking out.

O'Nellis had changed tactics and now focused the bulk of her firepower on the dragon's eyes; the beast was forced to the defensive as a result, having to shield its only vulnerable area. However, that didn't mean victory was theirs. It was only a matter of time before their reptilian opponent retaliated, and Dalton didn't believe the squad would survive much longer unless a new plan was found.

As for Rory… well, he could tell she wasn't exactly a _normal_ girl, mostly due to the dress and halberd, though "not normal" had suddenly changed to "superhuman". She was zipping around out there at record-breaking speeds, agilely evading the dragon's claws and breath while simultaneously chipping away at its scales with her weapon. It hurt his already overloaded brain to think about the newest addition to their group having superpowers, so he tried not to.

Why did this need to happen? Everything was perfectly fine ten minutes ago! And just how the hell did the Fire Dragon track the convoy down this far?!

Alec shook his head, clearing his mind. Dwelling on those thoughts wasn't going to help the team get out alive.

His eyes darted around the inside of the jeep. Reynolds was screaming orders into her radio, having gone completely red in the face. Bare juggled between avoiding the dragon's fiery breath and trying not to accidentally hit the other Packhorse, or the speeding form of Rory Mercury.

Gyules was no help, either. The poor Gear's brain seemed to have short-circuited; he was babbling a stream of gibberish about elf boobies and battle lolis and how he would be perfectly okay with dying once Berserkers were extinct.

Hutch just sat there as if nothing was wrong at all. The elf girl was next to him, now wrapped in a blanket and covering her long ears. Her eyes were shut tight, and the private could hear her mumbling something unintelligible.

There had to be _something_ in the jeep that would be useful…

As if by divine fate, the vehicle hit a bump in the terrain, knocking open a compartment used for weapons storage. Dalton's eyes brightened when he saw what was inside.

 _The Longspear! Of course!_

Bare had mentioned there was a rocket launcher among their list of weapons, and if there was a more appropriate time to utilize it, Dalton couldn't think of one. He reached out to grab the weapon and slung it over his shoulder.

He stood up to approach the rear doors, then paused to look back at the man he considered his brother.

"Rudy, I'm about to do something incredibly stupid! If I die, you can inherit my comic collection!"

His declaration instantly snapped Gyules out of his stupor. "Seriously? Awesome!"

Alec stared at his friend in disbelief. "Dude, I'm telling you this so you'll try to talk me out of it!"

The pyro shrugged. "Hey man, either your plan works and we all live, or I get your comic book collection. It's a win-win for me no matter what."

"…Dude…"

Armed with the Longspear and the knowledge that this was a very bad idea, and feeling more than a tad betrayed, Private Dalton threw open the doors and jumped.

* * *

He hit the rocky ground on his stomach, eliciting a grunt of pain. The young Gear was barely back on his feet when his helmet radio received an incoming transmission from a _very_ pissed off Lieutenant Reynolds.

 _"_ _Private Dalton, what the hell do you think you're doing?!"_ his CO shrilled.

"I have a plan, Lieutenant!" he responded without hesitating. "Just keep the dragon distracted for a minute!"

He took a quick look at his surroundings. The only thing of note was a small, waist-high boulder about a dozen feet away. Dalton scampered toward the rock and took cover behind it, using the brief respite from the nearby battle to get his thoughts in order.

It wasn't really much of a plan, to be honest. The only reason he'd abandoned the Packhorse was because he didn't believe in his ability to hit a target from the back of a moving vehicle – even if the target in question was a colossal dragon. Not that being out here was much better. If he missed, and the Fire Dragon noticed him, then he was as good as dead. Same if the rocket launcher failed to kill the beast, or at least grievously injure it. On the other hand, if he did nothing, then Theta Squad was sure to die whether he was in the jeep or not.

Alec started fumbling with his rocket launcher.

"Argh, which part is the shooty end…?"

He'd never handled one of these in person before, though he was vaguely familiar with the technical details. The Longspear was designed as a low-recoil, anti-vehicle weapon with some kind of heat seeking capability. Since he'd never heard of Longspears being used against titanic creatures like Brumaks, he doubted the rockets could accurately track organic targets. Dalton chalked that up as another reason why firing it from the erratically moving jeep was too much of a gamble.

Oh, and it was only loaded with one warhead. He'd forgotten to bring spares. While he doubted he could've reloaded in time before the dragon barbequed him, just in case he missed, his mistake only fueled his determination to make that one shot count.

He peeked his helmeted head over the rock. Between Rory's unnatural combat techniques and O'Nellis' machine gun fire, the dragon was too preoccupied to notice the single Gear hiding behind the boulder a short distance away.

It was now or never. Alec hoisted the Longspear over his shoulder and took aim.

"SUCK ON THIS!"

 _Fwoom!_

The warhead seemed to hang in the air for a moment after it left the launcher's tube, then suddenly accelerated to a high speed. It landed a direct hit on the monster's upper left arm, obscuring the appendage under a cloud of thick black smoke.

The Fire Dragon threw its head skyward and screeched in agony.

"Holy shit, that actually worked!" Dalton cheered, grinning like a dork.

His grin did a one-eighty when the smoke cleared up, however. Upon closer inspection, it didn't appear that the rocket did any damage at all.

"Oh fuck, that didn't work!"

Then the dragon's arm fell off. The severed limb almost crushed Rory, but the Apostle of Death managed to move aside at the last second.

"No, wait, it did work!"

The dragon roared again, flailing around wildly for a few seconds. Knowing it had been bested by the armored comic book geek, the mythical beast took to the skies and flew away, leaving the Gears and surviving refugees to peacefully stare after it.

Dalton emerged from behind the rock and took a few shaky steps forward, discarding the Longspear as he did so. He collapsed to his knees, watching the Fire Dragon's retreating form grow smaller with each passing second.

He'd done it. It was over. He'd taken on a motherfucking _dragon_ , forcing it to flee and living to tell the tale. How many other COG soldiers could claim they did the same?

He didn't take his gaze away from the dragon, even when he heard the two Packhorses park nearby. The private was soon joined by Rory, the elf, and the six other members of Theta Squad.

Someone cleared their throat.

"Private Dalton…" Reynolds began.

Alec exhaled a long, tired breath. "With all due respect, Lieutenant, can we just skip to the part where I promise to never do this again, and we can all move on with our lives?"

"…I suppose," she conceded after a moment. "I'll let it slide. This time."

That was good, because he hoped there wouldn't be a next time.

Gyules bounced over to the elf girl, who still wore nothing but a blanket.

"Hello! I'm Rudy! Let me begin the first part of my three-part explanation on why we should be friends by stating that I'm very tolerant of other races and their cultures!"

Alec closed his eyes and took another breath. He knew his friend's hobbies doubled as a coping mechanism for stressful situations, and he did his best to respect that – but right now, he was simply too drained to put up with it.

"Rudy?" he ground out.

"Yes, Alec?"

"Please shut up before I castrate you with a chainsaw."

* * *

 **(Later That Night)**

The battle had been won, but not without casualties. 150 of Koda Village's residents had died in the Fire Dragon's attack – a quarter of the settlement's total population – and several of the bodies weren't able to be recovered. The survivors, with the assistance of the Gears and their new allies, had spent the rest of the evening constructing a makeshift memorial to all who had perished that day.

The hill they'd built it on, Private Dalton observed, was absolutely beautiful. The graves were surrounded in every direction by twinkling bell flowers that emitted flecks of purple light; when he first saw the strange phenomena, he'd mistook it for purple fireflies. The additional light cast down by the Special Region's pale blue moon only strengthened the serenity of the area.

All seven members of Theta Squad were lined up with their heads bowed and hands clasped, quietly saying their goodbyes to the departed. They were among the first people in the new world to greet the COG with something other than open hostility. Even if they'd only known the villagers a short amount of time, the team considered them nothing less than friends.

Dalton unfolded his hands and turned around when his ears picked up a small sniffle. A little girl with messy black pigtails was standing a few feet behind him, looking like she was on the verge of crying. She looked so similar to Isabel…

Alec's mind flashed back to child he'd met in Jacinto. He remembered how she'd lost a parent, as well as what he did to help console her. He could never ignore a child in need – it just wasn't in his nature.

He walked over and crouched down, placing an armored hand on the girl's shoulder. She immediately lunged at him and buried her head into his neck, attempting to wrap her small arms all the way around his torso, and weeping uncontrollably.

"Shh… it'll be all right…" Alec whispered soothingly, gently patting her on the back.

He lost track of time as he continued to hold her. It must've been at least a few minutes, since by the time he finally stood up and let her go, the refugees were already getting back into their wagons.

The private caught sight of Reynolds talking with the chief several feet away.

"I know it sounds cruel, but we need to take care of our own, too." The old man said sadly. "The elderly, the wounded, the children… we simply can't provide care for all of them."

"Leave that to us," Reynolds assured him. "Where we go now?"

"There's no 'we' this time. The residents of Koda Village will be leaving without you." He smirked at the lieutenant's shocked expression. "My friend, you've done more than enough for us. You've dealt the Fire Dragon a serious blow. And if my memory serves correctly, some of our villagers have family nearby, so we should be able to find a place to rest without any problems."

"Are you sure?" she pressed.

The chief nodded. "Absolutely. All I ask is that you please take care of the residents we can't afford to."

"No worry. We will."

"Excellent. And… thank you. For everything."

Reynolds parted ways with the chief after that final exchange; her towards the Packhorses, and him towards the wagon train. Dalton jogged to catch up with her, the child at his heels.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

The lieutenant smiled, gesturing to the jeeps. Theta Squad was accompanied by a handful of refugees who were left behind, mostly elderly people and children. Rory and the elf were also present, both of them looking happy as they watched the convoy begin to depart.

"We're going back to Alnus, Dalton. And we're bringing a few new friends with us," she informed him.

This wasn't how Alec expected their first deployment in the Special Region to go. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would lead a convoy, or meet an elf and a superhuman, or fight a dragon. It all felt so surreal, he almost didn't believe any of it to be true.

It _was_ true, however. Each and every last bit of it. And as he walked with Reynolds, Dalton found that he'd actually _enjoyed_ the experience, and was eager to see what crazy adventure awaited the squad next.

One thing was for certain – it sure as hell beat patrol duty.

* * *

 **Done. Almost 14,000 words. Be happy.**

 **Seeing as there were only two reviews that weren't super brief and/or some form of "Damn it Carmine", I'll answer those:**

 **halo is bad ass: Thanks for the feedback. I wanted the flow of the story to feel like it's happening in real life, and it's nice to see someone picked up on that. And sorry to dash your hopes, but as Bare explained in this chapter, setting up the Hammer of Dawn in the Special Region would just be too impractical and time-consuming.**

 **king Quinn The Last Heir: There's a little thing called "spoilers" I try to avoid. You'll just have to wait and see what happens. That being said, the COG hasn't forgotten about the destruction caused by the initial invasion.**

 **I'll probably take a short break while I plan out the next chapter. There will be quite a few differences from canon, that's for certain, but I can't say what they are yet… so please don't ask. And remember, reviews get me off my lazy ass faster.**


	5. Where We Belong

**Not an episode I was planning to split into two chapters, but hey, when life gives you inspiration…**

 **It's a huge relief for me that the last chapter was met with such positive feedback. I don't have much experience with fight scenes, which is why the battle with the Fire Dragon was more or less similar to canon, but I'm slowly learning to adapt. Just bear with me in the future.**

 **On the subject of canon, I've received a couple of reviews asking me not to follow it too closely. I'll see what I can do about that in the short term – the Italica arc probably won't change much, but once the cast goes to Sera… hoo boy. Canon is going to be thrown completely out the window. Depending on the feedback afterwards, I might strive to make bigger changes down the line.**

 **Again, this whole story is as much of a learning experience for me as it is a (hopefully) enjoyable read for you.**

* * *

As far as deployments went, some Gears would've bemoaned being posted to guard one of the military checkpoints that sprung up on the roads leading to Alnus Hill. There was a whole new world on the other side of the gate, brimming with adventure and exciting new discoveries, so to be assigned guard duty? To many young soldiers, it was a fate that promised death by boredom.

To older veterans like Sergeant Mataki, it was about as good of a task as she could've hoped for. Let the younglings handle the exploration and politics and shit – Bernie was content to just sit back and shoot whatever asshole threatened her and her boys at Checkpoint Bravo.

Her deployment to the Special Region was thankfully destined to be a short one. Having been left out of the initial push and subsequent battles in this new realm, she was curious to see for herself what laid beyond the monolithic structure in Jacinto, so she'd pulled a few strings with Colonel Hoffman to nab herself a brief assignment at a border checkpoint.

Much to her disappointment, the gate led to what she believed to be the most mundane and uninteresting area in the entirety of the region. The only noteworthy thing about the hill surrounding the COG FOB was the mass graveyard where the previous battles were fought. All enemy corpses had long since been buried or burned, and any hazardous materials were disposed of, leaving the field in front of the base empty and barren. However, there were still a couple of recognizable dirt roads on the outskirts of the battlefield, something that Captain Mayweather didn't waste time addressing.

If anyone on this particular road wanted to reach their headquarters, they'd have to go through Bernadette Mataki first. It seemed like nobody was interested, though.

Tired of basking in the sun, and feeling the need to stretch her legs, Bernie decided to take a walk under the pretense of "scouting the area". The three young whelps under her command looked competent enough to not do anything overly stupid while she was away. Slinging her rifle over her back and bidding them farewell, Bernie set out for one of her favorite downtime activities: hunting wildlife.

She was born and raised a survivalist, taught from an early age how to hunt game and thrive in the wilderness. Those same skills proved to be a lifesaver during her years-long trek across the devastated landscapes of Sera; she knew which types of flora and fauna were edible and which weren't, how to track living creatures, and how to make the most with the bare minimum of resources. She was intimately familiar with almost every species of animal between Tyrus and the South Islands. Now that she was in a totally different world, Bernie was eager to find out what kind of wildlife called the Special Region home.

Looking back on it, maybe she was a bit _too_ eager.

The old Gear muttered a string of the filthiest words in her vocabulary as she made her way back to the checkpoint, tightly holding a seemingly dead critter by the back of its legs a fair distance from her face. She assumed the creature was deceased, but she wasn't taking any chances after the fight it gave her.

It was a cute little thing that resembled a white bunny rabbit with antlers. Mataki was prepared to leave it alone when she found it, seeing it as no possible threat – until it suddenly charged at her with a tiny screech and bared fangs. Why the fuck did a rabbit have such huge fangs? Not giving herself time to dwell on it, Bernie whipped out her Snub and shot the demon bunny right between the eyes. However, to her horror, the shots not only failed to penetrate the animal's skull – they were completely deflected!

She resorted to batting the thing away, using her Longshot like a golf club before she shot it again. Even a headshot from a fucking sniper rifle failed to kill it; it did, however, stun the little fucker long enough for Bernie to rush over and jam her knife into its neck.

And she thought the predators on Sera were bad. Ugh. If this was the amount of effort it took to kill a rabbit, she didn't even _want_ to imagine what a cow would be like. Fuck the Special Region and all of its adorable bullshit.

Bernie returned to the checkpoint with a deep scowl and a metaphorical raincloud over her head. However, both of those evaporated when she saw what had arrived during her time away: a pair of Packhorses, followed by a few horse-drawn wagons.

…One of those wagons was floating off the ground. What in the actual _fuck_ was wrong with this world?!

One of her men, Private First Class Trevor North, could be seen talking with a blond-haired woman in officer's armor, whom the sergeant recognized as Captain Mayweather's niece. Standing behind her were six other Gears, accompanied by a little girl in a black dress with a fucking halberd and… okay, she needed to get to the bottom of this shit, right goddamn now.

"Oi! When the hell did this band of circus freaks show up?!" Bernie hollered, shoving her way past North to stare down Reynolds.

"This is Theta Squad, Sergeant Mataki. They just got here a minute ago. Those people with them are refugees from a nearby village," another of her men, Corporal Mason Campbell, answered for her.

Refugees? Refugees from what? God help them if they pissed off a chicken coop full of hens with rotating drill beaks.

Lieutenant Reynolds looked like she was about to speak up, but someone on her own squad beat her to the punch.

"Bernie? Is that really you?" One of the Gears removed his helmet, revealing a face that would've been totally unassuming if it weren't for the familiar scar on his nose. He smiled broadly at the elderly soldier. "It's me, Alec Dalton! Remember? From back in Jacinto? How've you been?"

"Private Dalton?" Bernie's eyes widened in surprise; she hadn't been expecting to meet the kid again so soon. Still, she found herself glad to see him safe, and relaxed her posture a bit. "Eh, I've been alright. Figured I'd come to this 'Special Region' for a few days to look around and maybe hunt some game. Speaking of which, is there any chance can you tell me what the fuck this thing is?"

She held up what had to be her most humbling kill for him to see. The younger Gear cocked his head, scratching his dark brown hair in thought.

"It looks kinda familiar, but, uhh…"

"Hey, I know what that's called!" the final member of Bernie's crew, Private Sebastian Whitaker, piped up. "It's a jackalope! I heard they're supposed to be pretty dangerous."

Great, so the field around the base could potentially be inhabited by killer bunnies. Bernie made a mental note to talk to Mayweather about that later. "Thanks, Seb. So, Alec, what's new with you? Actually, scratch that. Why the fuck are there wagons following you?"

"Well, I-"

Before Dalton could offer an explanation, another Gear wearing a green wool hat grabbed the private in a headlock and started giving him a noogie. He grinned up at Bernie, ignoring his teammate's surprised yell and subsequent pleas to stop.

"Vinnie! Behave!" a female soldier who wasn't Reynolds shouted.

"You wanna know, eh, Granny?" Vinnie asked mockingly, paying no attention to the woman. "We escorted these helpless villagers here away from a dragon."

The old veteran's expression showed she wasn't amused by the man in the hat's childish nickname for her, or his outlandish claim. A month and a half ago, she would've whooped his slimy ass right then and there for even suggesting there was such a thing as dragons.

Then again, a giant interdimensional gate had appeared in Jacinto out of nowhere, and there _was_ a fucking levitating cart a few meters away… Perhaps she should keep a more open mind when it came to the impossible. Or just stop caring when shit like this happened.

Also, none of Theta Squad made a move to contradict what this Vinnie character just said. That did nothing to ease her confusion.

In the end, Bernie simply raised a curious brow. "A dragon, huh? No shit. You sure it wasn't just some oversized wyvern?"

"I can confirm it wasn't." A soldier in white armor drawled out in a flat, emotionless voice. "It was roughly eighty to ninety feet tall and able to breath fire. We witnessed the destruction it caused first-hand."

He nodded at a red-faced Dalton, who was still stuck in Vinnie's headlock. "If it hadn't been for quick thinking on Private Dalton's part, I estimate the casualties would've been much higher than they were."

"You lot fuckin' with me? What the hell did you do?" Bernie shot Dalton a flabbergasted look. It was one thing to kill a bunch of enemies and save lives during an invasion, but taking on a dragon? _Alec?_

The private's only response was a choking wheeze.

"Yeah, this little dweeb jumped out the back of a moving Packhorse and blew the damn lizard's arm off with a rocket!" Vinnie recounted, giving Alec a renewed noogie. "Hell of a sight, Granny, lemme tell ya! It flew away like a fuckin' pansy after that!"

The old sergeant blinked. Well… damn. Maybe the kid hadn't been a badass by accident before.

She shook her head, then gave a rare, genuine smile. "Fuckin' hell, Private. You keep doing this kind of shit, and soon you'll be as famous as Fenix." Her expression switched to a hardened frown. "Alright, next question. Who's the creepy girl?"

All eyes turned to the gothic reaper, who was casually leaning against a massive, tattooed Gear clad in a set of battered armor. He seemed uncomfortable with her presence, if his tense body language was any hint.

"Oh, that's just Rory. She's a traveling priestess we picked up during the evacuation." The woman who yelled at Vinnie earlier explained, waving a dismissive hand at the strange girl.

Bernie narrowed her eyes at Rory, subconsciously gripping her latest catch a bit tighter. Priestess or not, the halberd was a dead giveaway that something wasn't quite right with this child. Then there was the way she carried herself; how totally unfazed she appeared even when surrounded by soldiers from a different world. Bernie knew the signs of an apex predator when she saw one, and this Rory chick wasn't afraid of them at all.

Rory, for her part, merely winked at the sergeant and playfully stuck out her tongue.

"One last thing before I let you through…" Bernie pointed at the floating wagon and its oddly-dressed occupants. "Someone explain that. _Now_."

"I can answer that one!" some pup with a Scorcher eagerly replied, waved his hand in the air. "It's magic!"

The cranky veteran was ready to storm over and beat some sense into him, until a rumbling voice gave her pause.

"He's not lying, believe it or not. Magic is… well, it exists in this world. To some degree, anyway." The tattooed man said tentatively.

That's it. She was done trying to understand all this shit. Everything she knew about science and logic had just bent over and gotten fucked by a cactus. First the Locust, then the gate, and now _magic_? What was next? Was the COG going to rescue a damsel in distress? Or find animal girls in maid outfits? At this point, anything was fucking possible.

Bernie heaved an exasperated sigh, covering her eyes with one hand and waving in the base's direction with the other, the dead jackalope still in her grip. "Just… Just go. I need a minute."

She heard several things following that: Theta Squad's footsteps as they went back to their jeeps, a sharp gasp from Private Dalton as Vinnie finally broke the headlock, and a dumbfounded mutter from Lieutenant Reynolds about how she hadn't been able to get a single word in. Only after the sounds of the convoy faded into the distance did she uncover her eyes.

Captain Mayweather was going to have an aneurysm when she radioed him about this.

Meanwhile, Private Whitaker eyed the jackalope curiously. "So, are we gonna eat that, or…?"

"Shut yer goddamn mouth, Seb."

* * *

 **(COG Forward Operating Base, Alnus Hill)**

Much had changed in the Coalition's small piece of territory since the deep recon teams were deployed beyond its borders. For starters, the omnipresent tents that served as the army's shelters and command posts had largely been phased out, replaced by sleek prefab structures brought through from Jacinto after the hill was deemed thoroughly secure. Additionally, mechanized Loaders could be seen moving every which way, transporting various building materials and other heavy goods wherever they were needed.

What stuck out like a sore thumb was the new headquarters. Possessing a square layout and standing at two stories tall, the building was currently the first and only one at Alnus to have been built from scratch. Poking out from the rooftop was a single radio antenna; while it wouldn't be sufficient in the long run, its mere presence gave every soldier hope that they would soon be able to establish dependable signal connection. Overall, the base was simple, rugged, and reliable in every way – just how the COG liked it.

To the men and women of Theta Squad, the sight of the expanded encampment came as a breath of fresh air after four days out on the frontier. It was new, yet also familiar at the same time. Even if the layout was different, the Gears inside were the still the same rowdy bunch they knew, and most of the team was looking forward to the prospect of warm meals and actual beds. None of them cared if said beds were itchy.

To the inhabitants of the Special Region, however, the area around Alnus Hill had transformed into something utterly alien. And for the first time in her life, Lelei honestly didn't know what to think as she dismounted her wagon with Master Cato.

"So, this is where they live, hmm?" Her teacher stroked his beard, turning in a full circle to get a view of what would probably be their new home. "I have to say, everything about this place seems a bit… unnerving."

His last words were almost drowned out when a Loader stomped past the convoy, carrying a few bags of sand in its mechanical arms. The machine stopped for a moment, just long enough for the Gear piloting it to lean out and get a look at the shocked refugees, before continuing on its way.

Lelei stared after it in awe. She could already hear some of the people around her whispering, wondering how that man was able to tame and ride a yellow, iron minotaur. The teenage apprentice, on the other hand, knew better than to take the sighting at face value.

That _thing_ , whatever it was, was undeniably the most advanced piece of engineering she'd ever laid her eyes on. How very strange…

The young mage recalled from Cato's history lessons that technological progression in the Empire had changed very little, if at all, in the 600 years since its formation. Logically speaking, there was no possibility that these "Gears" could have achieved such rapid advancement without the rest of the continent catching wind of it. The idea was simply preposterous. Adding to that, the Emperor surely would've noticed if a rogue faction decided to settle and build on… Alnus… Hill…

"By the gods…" Lelei breathed, her teal eyes widening as realization struck her.

"Lelei? What's the matter? Is there something wrong?" Cato asked in concern.

Lelei looked down at her master, clutching her catalyst like a lifeline.

She'd figured it out. Everything fit. The foreign technology, the meaning of the location, the suddenness of it all… she now knew where these mysterious people came from, and how they must've gotten here.

The gate on the holy grounds had opened. And while Lelei still wasn't sure who the Gears were, or why they were here, one thing stood clear as day: they brought enough destructive power with them to ward off a Fire Dragon. Enough power to potentially shape the future of the Empire, and all of Falmart by extension.

* * *

 **(Alnus Station HQ)**

Captain Mayweather rested his elbows on his desk and rubbed his temples, heaving a sigh as his brain attempted to make sense of what his niece and her squad were telling him. Theta had been the last of the deep recon teams to return, and not only did they bring impossible stories back with them, they also brought surprise guests. Guests that would likely be making themselves a new home in their base.

God, he was getting too old for this shit.

"So let me get this straight," he began. "You seven stumbled across a dragon attacking a settlement and rescued a lone survivor the next morning. Not just any survivor, but an elf."

"Yes, sir." Reynolds confirmed.

"And then you led the evacuation of Koda Village, picking up a child priestess along the way, before the dragon ambushed you."

"More or less." Reynolds shrugged. "It also demonstrated a high degree of intelligence for an animal. I hate to admit it, but it caught us with our guard down."

The captain made a small noise of affirmation, sweeping his gaze over each person in the room. His blue eyes fixated themselves on one member of the team in particular. "Then Private Dalton here grabbed a rocket launcher in the ensuing battle, jumped out of a moving Packhorse, and proceeded to shoot the dragon with it, which scared the target off along with permanently crippling it."

Dalton lowered his gaze to the floor, fidgeting in place. "Uhh… yes, sir. That's kind of the barebones version of what happened, but it's true."

Mayweather had been legitimately dumbfounded when he learned the young private was largely responsible for saving the day. The rookie had surpassed everyone's expectations of him ever since the gate appeared.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Kid, I honestly don't know whether to punish you or give you a freakin' medal."

"How about you do neither?" Dalton suggested, looking back up at his superior. His words came out a bit too quickly to sound normal; in fact, he almost seemed afraid. "I was just looking out for my team, sir. No need to congratulate me."

Mayweather furrowed his brow, giving the private a quizzical stare. Judging from the glance Courtney sent her subordinate, she'd also noticed that something was amiss with his statement.

 _That's odd. This is the second time he's denied praise after performing a good deed. Does he really put that little faith in himself?_

He coughed, returning to the matter at hand. "If you insist, son. Getting back to the topic of the refugees – I don't have a problem with them staying here, but they'll need to learn how to function in our society if they want the best experience. Teach them how to be COG, so to speak."

"Understood, Captain." Reynolds nodded. Her expression suddenly turned hesitant. "Umm… my team and I aren't going to be the ones to do that, are we?"

Behind her, the rest of Theta Squad visibly tensed, Private Hutch being the sole exception. Their concern was valid; other than the medic, none of them were qualified teachers or humanitarian workers. They were soldiers, meant to protect their own and kill the enemy. Fortunately for the ragtag bunch, however, Captain Mayweather had no intention of reassigning them.

He smiled reassuringly. "Not unless you want to, sweetheart. You've already proven you're better off doing field work." He waited as they breathed audible sighs of relief before continuing. "However, since your squad is responsible for bringing them here, I'm assigning you to provide for them until they're settled in."

That earned a few groans from the team, Sergeant Weaver's being the loudest.

"Quit your bellyaching, Gears! Think of this as… _repayment_ for their hospitality when you first arrived at their village."

"Sounds fair enough," Master Sergeant Bare nodded in agreement.

"Excellent! It's a plan, then!" Mayweather clapped his hands together, then motioned to the office's door. "I know it's getting late, but we can't afford to neglect those people. So get to it!"

Theta Squad saluted in unison before filing out the exit. Not even a second after the last member left, Lieutenant Yanagida slipped into the room, holding a folder under one arm. The raven-haired man paused to bow to the captain – an old habit from his home country – before dropping the paperwork on Mayweather's desk.

"Captain Mayweather, sir. The reports are ready for your review." He said by way of greeting.

"Nice to see you too, Second Lieutenant." Mayweather replied, opening the folder and shuffling through its contents.

It was a detailed breakdown of the six recon teams' discoveries in the Special Region. The results were about what he'd expected: four of the teams, including Theta, came across small settlements in the wilderness, and had essentially made peaceful first contact with the locals. The other two teams hadn't found anything at all, and were forced to return to base lest they run out of water and rations. It seemed like some of their troops still weren't comfortable with the thought of eating the native flora and fauna.

All in all, not too shabby.

"Looking good, Yanagida. Anything specific about the natives we should be aware of?" the captain inquired.

"Their language is giving us trouble, but some of our soldiers have been able to communicate with them, to an extent. We're already working on a guidebook." A rare smile graced the lieutenant's face. "Actually, the refugees Theta Squad brought back may have been a blessing in disguise. If they're willing to cooperate, we'll be able to learn the language in no time."

"Good to hear." Mayweather smirked back.

Maybe this meant Prescott wouldn't blow a gasket when he inevitably found out the COG was harboring villagers in their base.

Yanagida adjusted his glasses before continuing. "Most of the locals appear to be human, and practice agriculture and forestry. There's more about their manufacturing and trade goods in the documents. Every village seems to have a village elder, but we have no detailed information about their political structure."

The elder officer frowned at the last bit of news. Even though the recon teams found a few settlements, they were all relatively isolated and entirely self-dependent, and none of them possessed the manpower to raise even a fraction of the armies the COG had encountered so far. The soldiers who participated in the organized invasion of Jacinto couldn't have come from nowhere – _someone_ was clearly pulling strings in the Special Region, someone very dangerous and politically powerful. Until they found out who that person was, and where they were located, the Coalition's investigation was effectively at a standstill.

They still had their prisoners of war back from the initial assault, but they were frustratingly hard to crack. The most anyone had gotten out of them were a few sentences composed mainly of insulting slurs.

"What do you recommend we do now, Captain?" Yanagida asked.

Mayweather stroked his beard, thinking of every asset they had and how they could best use them. It didn't take him long to reach a decision.

"For now, let's focus on getting the refugees integrated with our little family. We have to show them we can be trusted. Once they're relaxed enough, maybe they'll be willing to divulge some more information about this world's political system."

Yanagida raised an eyebrow. "Using humanitarian methods to further our campaign of vengeance… very crafty, sir." He said approvingly. "But what if they don't know anything? What will be our plan then?"

"Then we push out further and further until we find the perpetrator." Mayweather growled, his expression darkening. "Mark my words, Lieutenant: we _will_ find out who's responsible for the attack on Jacinto. And when we do, some poor bastard's gonna have a lot to answer for. Dismissed."

* * *

That debriefing had taken a lot longer than normal, Reynolds thought to herself as Theta exited her uncle's office. Then again, it was justifiable given that they had to explain why they returned with a few dozen refugees, and that was leaving out the part about the fire-breathing dragon. She was tired, she was hungry, and right now she wanted nothing more than to change out of her armor into a comfortable set of fresh clothes. Unfortunately, that would have to wait – there were still things to be done before she could turn in for the evening.

"Well team, even though we ran into a few hiccups and close calls, you all did an admirable job." She addressed the six Gears under her command. "Our first mission was a success. With a little more training and coordination, I think we have a real shot at helping get to the bottom of this whole mess. Great work, all of you."

"Aw, that's very kind of you to say, Lieutenant!" O'Nellis beamed from behind her mask. "You didn't do so bad yourself!"

The rest of the squad's reactions to their CO's praise was varied, but all positive. Weaver sent her a lazy smirk, while Dalton let out a low whoop and shared a fist bump with Gyules. Bare just folded his arms and shrugged modestly. Even Hutch responded with a brief thumbs-up.

She hadn't been lying, either. Sure, they had their fair share of unprofessional moments out there, though Reynolds knew it would've been hypocritical of her to say she hadn't done the same. Nobody was perfect, after all. And when the situation called for it, these Gears proved they could put their petty differences aside and work together as a team. She really was proud of them.

Too bad what she had to say next would undoubtedly ruin their good moods.

"That being said, we're not done yet," the blond officer informed them. "Gyules, O'Nellis, head to the mess and grab some rations. Bare and Weaver, you guys get tents from the post engineer. Hutch…"

Her eyes drifted to the medic, who stood rigid at her attention. "Get a rundown on our medical stocks. Tomorrow morning, I want you to assemble the med team and have each of the villagers get a check-up. Tell them Lieutenant Reynolds ordered you to do it if they ask any questions. Besides, I'm sure the other doctors are eager to make themselves useful, am I right?"

"Indeed. It will be done, ma'am." Hutch nodded.

Dalton tentatively raised a hand. "Uhh… what about me, Lieutenant? Don't I get a job?" he queried.

The corners of Reynolds' lips quirked into a small frown. "You'll be on tent duty. But first, I'd like to have a word with you."

"I, um, huh?" the private stuttered, taken aback by her request. "D-Did I do something wrong?"

"We'll see. The rest of you, get moving! The sooner you're done, the sooner you'll get some R&R!"

The rest of Theta didn't need to be told twice – they were gone before she finished her last sentence. Reynolds and Dalton watched them leave; once they were out of sight, the latter turned to face his superior.

"So, um… what did you want to talk about?"

Courtney took a moment to study the private. He was practically shaking in his boots; if she hadn't been there to witness it, she wouldn't have believed this was the same Gear who defeated the Fire Dragon. Now he looked scared out of his mind that he'd done something to anger her.

She almost pitied him, but she couldn't afford to. She had to be firm and in control.

The lieutenant folded her arms, giving her subordinate a stern look. "We need to discuss your actions during our skirmish with the dragon. Did you really know what you were doing back then?"

Dalton contemplated her question for a few seconds before responding. "Permission to speak freely, Lieutenant?"

"Granted."

"It was a fluke."

Reynolds blinked once, then twice. That… was not the answer she'd been expecting to hear. He could've given her any number of responses, ranging from boastful to indifferent to anything in between, so to hear him say it was all just a mistake baffled her.

"Elaborate, Private." She ordered.

"What I did was… I don't know, a last-ditch gambit?" He shrugged helplessly. "I mean, we were barely making an impact on the dragon, so I figured there was nothing to lose by pulling something dumb."

"But your plan wasn't dumb," Reynolds pointed out. "Was it risky? Yes. Could you have gotten killed? Also yes. But it _worked_." She placed a hand on his armored shoulder. "Like you said, there was nothing to lose by trying. You drove off a monster that probably would've killed us all if the battle lasted much longer. Are you saying you're not proud of that?"

"I am, it's just that…" He sighed and shook his head. "Listen, it's hard to explain, okay? I'd rather not be labeled a hero or get all this attention because I made a few desperate decisions. I just want to help protect people, ma'am. I don't need to be rewarded for that."

She was beginning to see what the problem was. Dalton had gone above and beyond what any average Gear would've done, during both the Jacinto incident and the dragon attack. However, any satisfaction or pride he felt from those achievements was buried under layers of self-doubt, along with a possible fear of being thrust into the spotlight.

That still left one question to be answered.

"Is this why you turned down that promotion? Because you didn't think you deserved it?" Reynolds asked, drawing her hand back.

The private shrugged again.

"I still don't," he said quietly.

Well, now she had the truth: The Hero of Jacinto, the brave soldier who saved hundreds of lives over the past month – including her own – viewed himself as nothing more than a simple grunt in over his head; the guy who shouldn't have been the hero, but was. She couldn't help but wonder – was he always like this, or did something else happen to spawn these insecurities? There was no mention of any self-loathing in his psyche profile. Either way, it wasn't exactly healthy for him to be having such thoughts, especially since he was an enlisted Gear.

She needed to nip this problem in the bud before it started affecting his performance in the field.

"A word of advice, Private." Reynolds began to lecture him. She smiled when Dalton straightened his posture, giving her his undivided attention.

"I think you should learn to take more credit for your actions, and not just the bad ones. Fighting off medieval invaders and severely injuring a full-grown dragon isn't just 'a fluke'." She made air quotes to emphasize her point. "You've done amazing things in an amazing time, Dalton. It's okay if you don't want to boast, but if you keep brushing those feats off as nothing, then some people might misinterpret that as arrogance. Do you get what I'm saying?"

He nodded slowly. "I… I think I understand, Lieutenant. Sorry if anything I've said or done so far bothered you. Everything's just been happening so fast lately, and sometimes I have trouble keeping up with it all, you know?"

"Trust me, I know that feeling." Reynolds nodded back, rolling her eyes with a smirk.

She was glad he'd been so forthcoming with her. Even if Dalton was still a bit green, if he could learn to move on past his self-confidence issues, he had the potential to make an excellent addition to the team.

Their conversation was interrupted when Lieutenant Yanagida opened the door to her uncle's office. The Eastern man appeared briefly startled when he saw them standing there at first, though he quickly masked his surprise under a cool half-smirk.

"Ah, First Lieutenant Reynolds, Private Dalton. I thought you'd have been gone by now," he calmly noted. "Is something the matter?"

"Nothing. We were just finishing up a little chat," Reynolds informed him.

"I see. In that case, would you mind if I borrowed my old patrol partner for a couple of minutes? I promise I won't keep him from his duties for long." Yanagida requested.

Reynolds exchanged a glance with Dalton, raising an eyebrow. The younger Gear simply shrugged, unsure of what to say.

"Fine, go ahead. I want him back to work in half an hour, though." She relented.

Her fellow officer's smirk grew wider. "That'll be more than enough time. Walk with me, Dalton."

Yanagida strode down the hallway without waiting for the private's response. Dalton followed after him obediently, stopping midway to give Reynolds a parting wave before he disappeared around a corner.

Courtney waved back, then turned the opposite way to begin the walk to the refugee area. There was a lot to do tonight, and she was determined to assist her squad as much as possible before an inevitable pile of paperwork reared its ugly head.

* * *

"Why are we here?"

Akira Yanagida leaned against the railing of the GOG HQ's rooftop, pretending to ignore the man behind him and his silly question. The lieutenant produced a lighter and a carton of cigarettes from his pockets, lit one up, and took a quick puff, staring out into the sunset all the while.

"Yanagida?"

He saw Gears scuttling around the compound below like insects, all of them busy with some project or another. Between the influx of supplies from Jacinto and the arrival of the refugee band, there was no excuse to sit around and do nothing. Every one of these soldiers had a duty to perform to help the Coalition achieve a greater good – such as was written in the Octus Canon.

"Hellooooo? Sera to Yanagida? Or, uh, Special Region to Yanagida?"

And then there were people like _this_ guy, who didn't seem to know whether he wanted to impress his superiors or humiliate them. Always in the right place at the right time since the gate opened, and somehow managing to play the role of hero in this campaign, and always with some kind of insane logic to back up his actions. Yanagida wondered how things might've been different if they hadn't separated on the day of the invasion.

He heard Alec sigh in resignation. "Well, it's been a pleasure talking to you, but I have places to be. See you later."

"My apologies, Dalton. I was simply collecting my thoughts. It's been a while since we've caught up, after all." Yanagida turned around and smiled coyly at his former partner.

"Oh, okay." Dalton nodded, then stayed quiet for several seconds. "…So, what's up?"

The lieutenant gestured with one hand at the vast landscape surrounding Alnus Hill.

"I've been thinking lately about the advantages this new world could provide for the Coalition. Listen carefully, Private – the Special Region is a _treasure trove_. It's an inhabitable land with an abundance of resources and no pollution to speak of. We're even starting to find mineral deposits that could kickstart large-scale manufacturing. And our civilization is far, far more advanced. Do you know what this means for the COG?"

"…That we can take whatever we want from here and nobody can stop us?" Dalton suggested, not sounding enthusiastic about his guess.

"Precisely." Yanagida confirmed with a nod. "There's only one gate leading to this world, and it opened up in Tyrus – and in Jacinto, no less. Barring Imulsion, we've just been given everything we need to turn our last city into an independent, self-sustaining fortress. In fact, it's not a stretch to imagine we'd be able to hold out indefinitely against a Locust siege."

Alec seemed to ponder his words for a few moments. "But wouldn't that put us in bad standing with the locals? I don't care how superior our technology is; this isn't our land, and it's not right for us to mine all their resources without consent."

"Without consent?!" Yanagida felt a vein bulge in his forehead. "You idiot, this isn't about asking for permission to build an amusement park! This is for our _survival_! If the Locust ever return in force, and we don't have the supplies and equipment necessary to hold them back, humanity will be driven to extinction!"

"And what if the grubs _don't_ recover?" Dalton shot back. "They've been pretty damn quiet ever since we dropped a bomb into their nest. Or even if they do return, what'll happen if the resources we find here still aren't enough? What then? I don't know about you, but I'm not about to risk pissing off every person in the Special Region for the sake of coal mining. You said it yourself, Akira: the gate now links our world with this one. And until we find out how to close it, we're stuck with this place, so I'd rather not provoke any more wars!"

Yanagida threw his hands up in exasperation. "Ugh, are you even listening to yourself? We're _already_ at war here! These people invaded us, Alec! Butchered our citizens like livestock! Don't tell me you've actually gone and _forgiven_ them for that atrocity?!"

That seemed to take the fleeting wind out of his sails. The private's shoulders slumped, and when he spoke again, his words carried a lot less heat in them.

"I… No. No, I haven't forgiven them, and I definitely haven't forgotten the reason why we came here." He quietly admitted. The blue optics of his helmet met the lieutenant's eyes. "But you've read the reports, sir. Not all of the natives here want us dead. Just take the refugees, for example. Can you honestly look at them and say they aren't grateful?"

For once, Yanagida found himself lacking a solid comeback. His calculating mind soon realized that unrestricted prospecting wasn't the main issue here.

Dalton was right about the new arrivals; not only had Theta Squad willingly put their own lives in jeopardy to save those refugees from the Fire Dragon, they also offered the villagers a new home when they had nowhere else to go. For better or worse, Alec had built a relationship of trust with the people of this land, and Yanagida was starting to understand why the thought of rampant expansion distressed him. He was afraid their efforts at making peace would go up in smoke.

While the officer was staunchly set in his beliefs, he couldn't deny that Dalton made a fair argument. Akira sighed, taking a few deep drags on his cigarette to cool off.

"The Chairman hasn't yet confirmed any long-term plans for the Special Region besides apprehending the invaders' leader. There's still too little useful information about this world, and it has the brass on edge." Yanagida flicked the cigarette butt away. "We'll reach that hurdle when we get there, I suppose. Why don't we talk about something else?"

"Yes, please." Dalton nodded.

 _Oh, Alec. Always so eager to avoid conflict, aren't you?_

Yanagida smirked, anticipating the private's reaction to the bombshell he was about to drop.

"You know, Alec, there was a time after the gate opened where I began to resent your sorry ass."

Now, the thing about COG combat helmets was that you either wore them religiously, or avoided them like the plague – no in-between. And while Yanagida himself was in the latter category, Dalton was firmly in the former. He almost never took the damn thing off except to eat or when it was time to go to bed. That was a shame, because the lieutenant would've bet that the look on Alec's face right now was _priceless_.

"I- _huh_?!" Was all he could stammer out.

Yanagida chuckled, letting the younger Gear spazz out a while longer while he fished out another cigarette. It really was too easy sometimes.

"You heard me, _Private_." He made sure to stress his old partner's rank, just to mess with him more. "You offered your promotion to me because you knew I wanted to retire from the battlefield. However, you did so after a gate to another world magically appeared in the city, which meant I wasn't an available candidate for any of the exploration teams when our forces went through. And believe me, I'm very curious to see what lies beyond this hill."

Whatever Dalton tried to say in response came out as an unintelligible squeak.

Yanagida grinned. "But you know what, Dalton? All that changed this morning once I learned about your encounter with the dragon. We've grown so complacent ever since our victory against this world's armies, that we've forgotten to account for other possible dangers. It made me realize that I'm safer here, at this base, filing paperwork while you're out there fighting ogres or whatever. I'd like to thank you for reminding me where I truly belong."

"Uhh… you're welcome?"

It was another shining example of how the rookie's dumb luck and spur-of-the-moment decisions made things better in the end. The lieutenant privately confessed that was the reason why Alec was probably more suited for fieldwork than him.

Technically speaking, the two of them couldn't be more different when it boiled down to ambition. Yanagida had his sights set on a cushy command job where his intelligence could be put to maximum use; by contrast, Dalton was happy just to protect those around him. It was a hard life to live, but it was admirable, and it was probably the reason he'd won the Eastern man's respect.

Yanagida closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. When he opened them and exhaled, he regarded Alec with a friendlier smile. "Enough about all this negative stuff, though. You're a part of Reynolds' squad, aren't you? Has the rest of the team been treating you nicely?"

The private instantly perked up.

"Oh, they've been great! Reynolds, Bare, and O'Nellis have all been really kind to me, and you already know I'm friends with Rudy. Weaver's sort of a jerk, but sometimes I think he just acts that way to hide a softer side. Then again, he was a prisoner in the Slab, so I'm not entirely sure. Then there's Hutch… he kinda keeps to himself a lot, but he's not a bad guy, and I know he's always looking out for our safety. There was this one time when we were in Koda Village, and…"

Yanagida paid attention while Dalton rambled on about Theta Squad's adventure, never losing his smile. He listened until their given time expired and Alec had to leave.

He sent his fellow Gear off with a pat on the back, along with a promise to catch up again later. Hopefully there would be less yelling involved next time.

* * *

 **(Lorn Village Tavern, Nightfall)**

"They drove off a _Fire Dragon_?!"

"Yeah, that's right! I saw it myself!" a brunette waitress claimed, setting down a mug of ale for one of her customers.

"Bullshit!"

"You don't expect us to believe that, do you?"

The woman gritted her teeth, her face contorting into a scowl. "It's _true_!"

"Sure you weren't knocked out and dreamed up the whole thing?" someone asked mockingly.

All the tavern's occupants laughed at the absurd story the young waitress was attempting to feed them. All of them, with the exception of a group of four knights seated at a more isolated table.

"Don't believe me, then! See if I care!" The small group watched as the irate woman stormed off to grab another batch of drinks.

Princess Piña's team had arrived at the latest settlement not long ago, then immediately set out to get some food after leaving their horses at the stables. Lorn was a small place, like most villages populated solely by peasants – it was a quiet location where not much ever changed. The only notable point of interest was an old manor house the had been converted into an inn. The fact that the Rose Order scouts even bothered to stop at this particular village was a telling clue to how their mission was going.

The knights' quest for information on the Blue Golems had yielded zero results so far. No matter where they went or who they asked, the replies they received from the Empire's citizens were always the same: they didn't know squat about the enemy, and none of them dared to approach Alnus Hill in fear of getting annihilated by their vile death magic. As far as the commoners were concerned, as long as they gave the creatures a wide berth, then there wouldn't be any trouble.

Piña would have admonished them for their cowardice if they weren't absolutely correct. Acquiring solid _facts_ about the invaders was looking more and more like an impossible task; if their luck didn't turn around, and soon, then she and her knights would be completely in the dark when they eventually reached Alnus.

A lack of knowledge about the golems cost the Imperial army over half of their troops. The princess was determined not to make that same mistake, although just the thought of venturing to a place where hundreds upon thousands of soldiers met their end sent a cold chill down her spine.

She couldn't afford to give up, however. Her father was counting on her to get results, and she'd pledged not to let him down. The future of the Empire could very well be resting on her shoulders.

And perhaps her fortunes _were_ improving, because the moment she and the others had been seated at their table, one of the waitresses began spinning a tale about how foreign mercenaries assisted in the evacuation of her home village. Piña hadn't initially paid her story much thought… at least, not until she mentioned there was a Fire Dragon involved. Doubly so after hearing that those mercenaries apparently defeated the beast in direct combat; something even the Imperial army at its height was unable to accomplish.

It got her wondering…

Hamilton looked over to Norma, frowning slightly. "What do you think?" she asked, referring to the woman's story.

"What do _I_ think?" The blond knight took a sip of his drink and made a face. "The bar is filthy, the beer's nasty, and so is the food. How can people live in these conditions?"

Grey, who was calmly nursing his own mug, sternly glanced at the younger man. "Norma, that wasn't what she meant. And you know we can't afford your _usual_ _luxuries_ at this time."

Strong words, coming from a commoner by birth. Piña would've found it amusing any other day, though now wasn't the right time, plus she wasn't in the mood for arguments.

"Too loud, you two. Hamilton, keep going." She ordered.

Hamilton sat up straight. "Right. I didn't tell you guys at first, since I didn't believe it, but there's a new rumor spreading like wildfire. A group of mercenaries in blue armor, while evacuating the residents of Koda Village, actually drove off a Fire Dragon!"

"And you think this nutjob's one of the residents?" Norma asked, jerking his head in the waitress' direction.

"It's a possibility." Grey added, setting down his mug. He rubbed the stubble on his chin with a thoughtful expression. "Then again, it's also possible she's lying, and is simply claiming to have been there for the sake of attention."

Norma nodded. "Sounds about right. And a Fire Dragon? Yeah, right. It was probably just a really big wyvern."

"It was a real Fire Dragon, sir!" The waitress suddenly interrupted them, arriving at the knights' table to deliver another round of drinks.

The teen scoffed and folded his arms. "You can't fool me!"

"I saw it with my own eyes!" she insisted.

Hamilton leaned over the table, adopting her best "cute pose". It was her secret weapon, Piña knew – her attendant never used that pose unless she wanted something very, very badly.

"Would you please tell us more about the ones who defeated this dragon?" she inquired politely.

The waitress frowned a bit, looking away. It spoke volumes about her willpower that she was able to give any kind of resistance. She would've made a fine knight.

"Oh, I don't know… I've been made fun of all day for telling this story, and nobody seems to believe me."

Hamilton pulled out a copper coin; secret weapon number two.

"I believe you!" she chirped.

"Deal!"

The other brunette swiped the coin from Hamilton's outstretched hand fast enough to mildly startle her. The woman cradled it to her bosom, beaming down at her customer.

"Thank you, young knight! I'll have to tell you an extra special story, then!" She closed her eyes, fondly thinking back to when the mysterious soldiers came to her rescue. "When the dragon attacked us that day, they saved us! They fearlessly rode into battle on mighty metal wagons; one of them pelted the beast with magic, while the other chanted a loud war cry. Then, one of the soldiers got out to fight it on foot, bringing his great iron rod to bear against-"

Norma did a sudden spit take when he heard the innuendo, having gone back to drinking while their server prattled on. Piña reflexively held up an empty plate to avoid being covered in the mix of spittle and foul-smelling booze.

"Heheh… my bad, Your Highness." He said in response to the princess' glare, rubbing the back of his head with an apologetic smile.

"…I suppose I could've worded that a bit better," the waitress admitted somewhat sheepishly. "What I meant was, one of them carried a weapon that resembled a huge catalyst made of iron."

"And let me guess, that soldier got incinerated on the spot?" Grey threw in.

Piña struggled to grasp why anyone would even _think_ of attempting such a dumb move. Fighting a Fire Dragon by itself was one thing, but to face it down on foot? Alone? Were these "mercenaries" all crazy, or where they just that confident in their abilities?

Her trainer was most likely right, though – there was no realistic way a single person could hope to survive in that scenario. Whatever fool tried that was probably ashes in the wind right now.

So she was inwardly shocked when the waitress shook her head in denial.

"Nope, not at all! He yelled an incantation before casting the most destructive spell I've ever laid eyes on – and trust me, I've seen some pretty wild magic. I used to live near Cato the Great Sage, after all." She paused to clear her throat, covering her mouth with a hand. "Anyway, the spell was strong enough to blow one of the dragon's arms off! It was incredible, I tell you!"

"And then what happened?" Hamilton grilled her. She was leaning forward in her chair, captivated by every word of the story.

The waitress shrugged. "The Fire Dragon called it quits and flew off before they could finish it. Huge shame, really. We parted ways with them later that night."

Piña looked down at her plate, frowning in deep thought. It was a heroic and entertaining tale, to be certain, even if several of the claims made were dubious at best and outright improvisation at worst. However, there were two particular details that stood out to her: the mercenaries' strange vehicles and weapons, along with the fact that they apparently wore blue armor. The same color as the mysterious beings on Alnus Hill…

It was a shot in the dark, but she had to take it. This could potentially be the breakthrough she needed.

"Did you happen to get a good look at any of these mercenaries?" Piña asked suddenly, turning to look the waitress dead in the eye.

The other woman responded with an impish smile. "Hey, your friend paid me to tell the story about how they defeated the dragon, and nothing else. If you want _that_ kind of information…" she trailed off expectantly.

Piña didn't miss a beat. "We're willing to pay. Anything you can tell us would be highly appreciated."

She produced a silver coin, which made the brunette's eyes sparkle in greedy delight.

"Oh, you knights spoil me!" she gushed as she snatched the money. The woman grinned once it was safely in her dress's pocket. "Did I get a good look? Ha! I actually _talked_ with one of them when they first came to our village. O-nell-iss, I think her name was. Some of them had pretty weird names."

"Wait, 'her'?" Norma echoed in disbelief.

"Yep. There were seven of them in total; five men and two women." She paused briefly, then added, "Something else that struck me as funny was that only one of them knew how to speak the Imperial language. The rest didn't even know a single word. Weird, huh? It made communicating with them a bit difficult at first."

Piña felt a pit of dread opening in her stomach. She forced herself to ask, "And… these foreigners… did they happen to resemble blue golems, by any chance?"

She waited with bated breath under the waitress' scrutinizing gaze.

"Blue golems? That's an odd comparison, but… yeah, now that you mention it, they do sort of look like armored creatures at a distance. I can assure you they're human, however. Why do you want to know?"

"That's our own business," the princess told her firmly.

 _Gods help us… they're expanding!_ She screamed inside her mind.

At least they now knew the invaders were a familiar species, instead of creatures controlled by magic, but that information didn't make them any less of a threat. In fact, it only made them worse. Golems couldn't think on their own; humans could. While a typical golem was only capable of following basic instructions from its master, human soldiers didn't possess such a weakness. The party's mission had just gotten a lot more complicated.

Piña braced herself for what she might learn next. "I'd like to ask one final question, if you don't mind. Did those soldiers happen to arrive at your village from the direction of Alnus Hill?"

"Alnus Hill?" the waitress repeated, blinking in confusion. "Sorry, hun, but I don't know the answer to that. The main road out of Koda splits into a few different routes. They could've come from anywhere."

She continued just before Piña could thank her.

"However… there's been another rumor floating around town. Apparently a noble is resting at the local inn, recovering from injuries he sustained during a fierce battle a little while ago. If anybody would have a clue where they came from, it would be him."

* * *

 **Amazing – 9,000 words and almost nothing important happened. This is a filler chapter if I've ever seen one. Oh well, at least Bernie made a surprise return!**

 **Lots of Dalton in this chapter, too. Fun fact: he's a deconstruction of the running gag where helmeted characters in the Gears series almost always die. He's indistinguishable from any generic Gear when he has his armor on; technically speaking, the only reason he's still alive is because of a) plot armor, and b) a string of dumb luck that may or may not run out. Even** ** _he_** **doesn't know why he's suddenly in the limelight, as evidenced by his conversations with the officers.**

 **That being said, he'll probably only be in one or two scenes next chapter, tops. I have a ton of ideas for how the rest of Theta Squad and the Special Region girls can interact.** **The rest of the cast won't ever be neglected this much again – I promise you that.**

 **Review answering thingamabob time:**

 **headreviewer mk2: Yeah, Jacinto's a beautiful city, isn't it? Too bad it probably doesn't look as polished after a decade and a half of war. I'm still thinking about how to portray everyday life there.**

 **Artyom-Dreizehn: Thank you for dumping a metric crap-ton of lore and technical details on my head. Luckily for you, I'm a lore enthusiast! It was interesting to read how the weapons and armor of the Gearsverse compare to our own, and what this might mean for future battles scenes. Also, I'm aware of just how burly the Serans are compared to us Earthlings. Some characters might take notice of that later… :P**

 **Rotciv557: Thanks for the compliment! Like I said, I'm slowly but surely trying to break away from canon, or at least expand on it. I'm also glad the OC's are growing on you; they're all fun to write, and I'm hoping each of my readers has at least one favorite by now.**

 **You all know the drill – reviews equal motivation. Even something simple like "Weaver is an asshole" would make my day.**


	6. Life at Alnus

**(Spits out diet iced tea) Holy mackerel, either the last chapter was better than I thought it was, or word is spreading about this little slice of fiction. I'll take either one! Thank you all so much for the feedback and support; it means the world to me that I've got a good following going on. You guys seriously rock.**

 **My apologies if this chapter came out later than expected. I had all four wisdom teeth removed recently, and the surgery… didn't quite go as planned. Let's just say it's hard to concentrate on writing when your mouth fills up with blood every fifteen seconds. I'm mostly healed now, so don't worry about it.**

* * *

 **(Wrightman Base, Jacinto City)**

Ever since Richard Prescott's inauguration as Chairman of the COG, his life had been nothing but one ethically questionable decision after another in an era of utter madness. While there was no doubt in his mind that what he'd done was in humanity's best interests, the politician was growing increasingly certain that his controversial methods over the course of the Locust War – from passing the Fortification Act, to the breeding farms in Jilane, and especially unleashing the Hammer of Dawn on his own citizens – had reserved a special spot in Hell just for him.

But if crossing the moral boundary was what it took to win, then he could make peace with that fate. Prescott was more than willing to spend the rest of eternity drinking nothing but ice-cold coffee as long as humanity earned themselves a tomorrow.

Things had recently been looking up for the Coalition, too. The Lightmass Offensive finally turned the tide for humanity after a fourteen-year-long string of costly defeats; with the Locust Horde reeling after being dealt a viscous blow to their subterranean home, the COG was given some precious time to regroup, rearm, and prepare a strategy for their next major counterattack in the fight to take back their planet. Morale had soared through the roof, and his Gears were itching to strike again while the iron was still hot.

All of that changed when the gate appeared.

Even Prescott was caught completely off-guard when he heard the news that an army of medieval humans and fantasy creatures were pouring through into Jacinto, slaughtering the city's inhabitants with no discrimination. He'd tried reviewing security footage from the street where the interdimensional portal had opened; however, when he reached the point in time where it materialized, the camera feed had inexplicably been reduced to static for a few seconds. By the time it corrected itself, the gate was already there, in all its otherworldly glory.

Any ordinary leader would've rightfully panicked to see their city come under attack. Richard Prescott was different. Hardened by the atrocities he'd seen and committed during humanity's war against a genocidal race of savages, the Chairman was quick to act. He gave their new enemies no sympathy, utilizing every soldier and tool in the COG's superior arsenal to turn the invasion completely inside-out. The thought of losing their last bastion to such a primitive army was totally unacceptable.

Although individual opinions varied wildly regarding the government and military, there was one thing nobody could deny: what the Coalition lacked in manpower, they made up for with technologically advanced weapons, unrivaled in both their reliability and lethality. Even rookies who had seen little to no prior combat, like Private Dalton, held their own against the numerically overwhelming foreigners.

Furious at the sudden and violent turn of events during their period of respite, as well as determined to take revenge against the mastermind behind the attack, the Chairman's decision to send a retaliatory army through the gate was met with overwhelming support, both from the public and his own political advisors. They could find out later why a portal to another world had opened – someone clearly had it out for the COG, and Prescott wouldn't rest until justice had been served. Preferably with the perpetrator facing death by firing squad, but he was open to suggestions.

The politician idly tapped his pen against the surface of his desk. Behind him, the rainy weather outside cast a dull light into his office. He was expecting a visitor today, though his guest hadn't specified his estimated arrival time. It was excusable, he supposed. Azura was a long distance away from the mainland, after all, and his summons to Jacinto _had_ been on short notice.

A buzzing on his intercom broke Prescott from his musings.

 _"_ _Mr. Chairman, Captain Dury is here to see you."_ Jillian Beston, his secretary, informed him.

Well. That was convenient.

"Send him in," the Coalition's leader replied.

After a minute of waiting, the door to Prescott's office opened, and a man clad in a suit of onyx-colored armor entered. He was in his late forties, with brown hair that showed signs of graying. His very presence gave off an air of authority that would've made any Gear stop and salute, even if they had no idea who he was.

This was Captain Paul Dury, one of Prescott's most trusted advisors and commander of the elite Onyx Guard.

The veteran soldier stopped in front of the Chairman's desk, straightening his posture and snapping off a crisp salute.

"Chairman Prescott, sir!"

"At ease, Captain. No need for such formality between old friends." Prescott stood up and extended his hand for a shake, which Dury accepted. "Please, take a seat. We have a lot to discuss."

He patiently waited for the captain to make himself comfortable before speaking again.

"I presume you know why I called you all the way here?" He began simply.

Dury snorted. "You kidding me, Richard? Ever since word reached Azura, all the eggheads talk about is how much they want to study that damn gate. I've had to 'remind' them of their priorities a few times these past couple of weeks. Hell, I needed to slip out in the middle of the night just so none of them could beg to come with me."

Typical scientists, always slavering over each new great discovery. Maybe they'd get the opportunity to learn about the gate one day… after their current projects were finished, of course.

"Have you seen it personally yet?" Prescott inquired.

Dury nodded, his weathered face taking on a cautious look. "I have. Took a quick peek at the containment dome before I came here. Damndest thing I've ever seen in my life." He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know about you, Mr. Chairman, but I can't honestly say this whole situation doesn't unnerve me. The Locust are one thing, but this… this is some real supernatural shit right here."

It was Prescott's turn to nod. He'd never been one to put much stock into fables and myths, but at this point, nothing was too extreme to dismiss. The recently confirmed sighting of a _dragon_ by one of the Special Region's deep recon teams cemented that fact.

That being said, he hadn't brought the captain all the way to Jacinto just to chit-chat about how surreal the new world was. There were preparations to be made for the future.

The Chairman opened a drawer in his desk and produced a thick folder containing documents on everything the COG knew about the Special Region: geography, industrial practices, estimated military strength, etcetera. He slid the folder across the polished surface to Dury.

"As of now, our understanding of the enemy's political infrastructure is insufficient. Their leaders' whereabouts are currently unknown to us," Prescott stated. "However, once the Coalition has pinpointed their location, or at least their capital, I believe we should work towards… _demoralizing_ their population. Discreetly, if possible. That's where I'll need your expertise."

"Sir, with all due respect, wouldn't it just be easier to blitz the capital once we find it?" Dury asked. "If what I've heard about their military is correct, it's not like there's anything they can do to stop us if we decide to go in guns blazing. Why bother playing stealthy when we can steamroll over them?"

"To bolster public support on our side, Captain."

Sighing at the confused expression the soldier gave him, Prescott continued, "As you're no doubt aware, many of our new army recruits are former Stranded, conscripted through Operation Lifeboat. Regrettably, there are some who refuse to enlist because they still haven't forgiven us – forgiven _me_ – for ruining their old lives. They expect the COG to sweep through the Special Region and destroy everything in its way."

Which was what he ideally would've liked to do, if the Coalition wasn't in dire need of more soldiers. As successful as it was, the Lightmass Offensive saw the deaths of too many good men and women on the front lines, and the government was desperate to fill the missing gaps in their army. If putting on a friendly show was what it took to convince the Stranded to sign up, then Prescott was willing to do it. It wouldn't change the outcome of their mission in the end.

Apparently the captain had reached the same conclusion, or at least didn't care enough to argue. He folded his arms and nonchalantly shrugged.

"I'll trust your judgment on that one, Richard. You're the politician here." He conceded. The elite Gear turned his attention back to the folder. "Anyway, you mentioned needing my expertise. Does this mean I'm being reassigned for a little wetwork?"

"Not you specifically," Prescott denied. "Your presence on Azura is far too valuable to lose. No, the main reason you're here is because I want you to assemble a team. One that won't mind a no-expense-paid trip to the enemy capital once we've found it."

Dury gave him a cold smile. "And let me guess, they won't be there as tourists?"

"Hardly. They'll need to survive being cut off from the COG for an indeterminate amount of time. This isn't a job for everyday soldiers," the Chairman stated.

"Which is where the Onyx Guard comes in." Dury nodded, and his smile grew a bit. "All right, sir, I see where you're going with this. I can have a group made up and ready to head out in a few days' time. I'm sure many of my troops are eager to shake off the rust after being on a resort island for so long."

Prescott's only response was a faint smirk.

He'd been laying out contingency plans ever since the day of the invasion, all of them designed not just for the purpose of protecting the COG, but to utterly screw with the enemy in ways their medieval minds couldn't possibly hope to fathom. Once the Coalition eventually learned where the enemy capital was, and when Dury made good on his word, Operation: Midnight Ride would ensure those barbarians wouldn't even throw a rock as an act of warfare.

"I'm pleased to hear that, Captain. Now then, I'd like to go over the expected opposition your soldiers may encounter within the Special Region…"

* * *

 **(Alnus Station, Special Region)**

Among the prefab structures built around the gate, few were more important than the COG field hospital. From the outside, it looked to be a cold and unwelcoming place, solely identified by a sign reading "HOSPITAL" next to the front entrance. For members of the Medical Corps, however, there was no better place to put their invaluable talents to use. It was a safe location where injuries were treated and worries were put to rest.

All was not right in the doctors' kingdom, though.

Wesley Hutch paced around one of the examination rooms with a clipboard in hand, his murky gray eyes fervently analyzing the results of his latest, and admittedly most unusual, patient. He was out of his armor, instead donning a white coat over a gray undershirt, along with a pair of simple black pants. His hair was neatly combed, and was such a dirty shade of blond it could easily be mistaken for brown at a glance.

Seated on a plush chair in her usual attire, Rory Mercury smiled bemusedly as she watched the medic's composure slowly break.

"Is something the matter, Mister Hutch?" she teasingly asked him.

"Nothing. I'm just thinking."

He ignored the girl's subsequent claim that he didn't need to worry about her, continuing to pace around the room and pour over his notes.

Hutch never thought the day would come where he _didn't_ want a patient to be given a clean bill of health. By all rights, the young priestess was in perfectly normal shape for someone her age – nothing about her physical form showed anything out of the ordinary. He even caught her eyeing the jar of colorful lollipops he gave to the children who behaved well, just like any normal preteen would. Word must be spreading fast about them, apparently.

Which was all well and good, if it weren't for the fact that Rory definitely _wasn't_ normal. He'd seen her fight against the Fire Dragon; the display of strength and speed she'd given that day was far beyond what any typical human was capable of. What frustrated him the most, however, was that nothing in her physiology gave him a clue as to how she performed those feats. There were no signs of stress in her bone structure, no excess buildup of lactic acid in her muscles – _nothing_.

There were only two things that got under Hutch's skin enough to irritate him: when his patients' well-being was put in danger, and when science stopped making sense. Right now, it was very much the latter.

Even the "magic" Cato and Lelei used had a warped sense of logic surrounding it. When he'd inquired about it during her own check-up, Lelei informed him that the basic function essentially boiled down to creating a "False Principle" that interfered with the natural world's "True Principles", and that the more a wizard understood the fundamentals behind the object or element they were attempting to manipulate, the stronger the resulting spell would become. While she still didn't know what governed how Special Region inhabitants became mages, or how they gained the ability to control nature, her explanation at least made _some_ sense.

But then how did Rory's powers fit into the equation? From what he'd seen, she hadn't manipulated the environment in any way during her skirmish with the dragon. Unless, perhaps, she used a subtle form of wind magic… That would explain her augmented speed, as well as the power behind her attacks, but it still didn't explain how her small body was able to endure such exertion.

Either she was an incredibly skilled magic user for her age, or there was some other, unknown force at work here. He needed to ask her about it.

Hutch looked up from his notes at Rory. He gasped for the first time in years when he saw what she'd done while he was distracted.

The child priestess had somehow acquired a thin surgical scalpel without him noticing. That wasn't even the scary part – the instrument's blade was coated in blood, stemming from a long, clean cut on Rory's left arm. The incision must have been three whole inches in length.

"What did you do?!" Hutch demanded, his clipboard clattering to the floor.

Rory smiled back pleasantly. If she was in any pain, she hid it admirably well. "Oh, I was simply curious to learn what some of these tools were. My hand must've slipped when I picked this one up," she told him.

He immediately knew she was lying. The scalpel was the only thing out of place on the surgical tray, and there was no way a mere slip of the hand could leave that kind of damage. She'd done this intentionally. He didn't waste time pointing that out, though; she was wounded, and he needed to treat her.

The medic zipped around the examination room, opening cabinets and rummaging through drawers in his search for supplies. It didn't take him long to find everything he needed: a pair of latex gloves, a roll of gauze, some antibiotic cream, and clean bandages. For added measure, he also grabbed a needle and thread, just in case she required emergency stitches.

He wet a small washcloth and lathered it with soap under the room's sink, then approached Rory. The young Apostle gave no protest when he gently began wiping the blood from her arm.

However, once it was clean, Hutch saw something that left him utterly speechless.

The cut was gone.

"What the…?"

He gingerly moved a gloved finger gown the length of her forearm where the wound had been just seconds earlier. The skin was healthy and intact, with no visible signs of scabbing or scarring over. It was like she hadn't even cut herself in the first place.

But… _how_? And more importantly, _why_ did she do that to begin with?

Hutch's gray eyes met Rory's crimson ones, his expression shifting to a stern frown.

"You have a lot of explaining to do."

"I told you, doctor. You don't need to worry about me," the girl replied airily. "In fact, you'll never need to be concerned about my health. Isn't that what you strive for? To make sure those under your care are healthy? I thought you'd be glad."

The medic's frown deepened. "I'll say it again. _Explain_."

"Oh, fine," Rory sighed. She leaned forward and adopted a mischievous grin. She still held the scalpel, Hutch noted, though he found himself strangely unconcerned about that. This was the girl who normally wielded a gargantuan halberd, after all.

"Are you a religious man, Private Hutch?" she whispered into his ear.

He wasn't, and he didn't know what faith had to do with her regenerative ability, or any of her other abnormal quirks. Praying didn't save lives; modern medical knowledge did. Most of Sera's population had given up their belief in God after E-Day. What sort of deity would unleash something as horrifying as the Locust Horde on their own followers? Or let the Pendulum Wars drag on for nearly eight decades?

For Hutch, his belief in a higher power, along with most of his emotions, faded after one too many good people died under his care. All that mattered now was keeping his fellow humans in the world of the living for as long as possible.

"No."

Rory hummed in thought, pulling away from his personal space to relax back into her chair. She idly twirled the scalpel in her pale fingers.

"Then you wouldn't believe me if I told you I'm a demigoddess?"

* * *

 **(Elsewhere on Base)**

Master Sergeant Bare whistled a cheerful tune as he flipped a few hamburgers over on an old-fashioned portable grill. While he could've simply gone to the mess hall for a bite to eat, word of mouth among the Gears said the stuffed cabbage being served today was more than a little out of date.

God, it felt like forever since he'd last fired up a grill. It was funny to think about, really: the hulking, grizzled, brutish veteran of three wars held a soft spot for cooking. He'd done a lot of grilling in the weeks after the Pendulum Wars ended, celebrating the COG's hard-fought victory with his friends, family, and the love of his life. For Teddy, cooking brought an equal amount of joy to his mind as it did to his stomach.

However, as a side effect, the wafting aroma of sizzling meat attracted a fair bit of attention. He'd needed to shoo away more than a few excited personnel; the grill was only big enough to hold five burgers at once, and he intended to eat at least three of them himself when they were finished. A man of his size required a lot of food to keep functioning, after all.

"Yo, big guy, when are those gonna be done?" an annoyingly familiar voice called from close by.

Unfortunately for Bare, Vinnie Weaver wasn't the type to give up so easily. The marksman initially obeyed when told to scram, only to return soon after with a lawn chair and a six-pack of cheap beer – where he'd gotten those items, Teddy didn't have the slightest idea. Now he was lounging around waiting for the burgers to finish, asking every thirty seconds how much longer it would be before they ate.

The master sergeant kept expecting O'Nellis to show up at any moment and scold her partner for bothering him, but so far, she hadn't. It looked like Bare would be his new friend until further notice.

Eh, fuck it. Weaver was his teammate, and he did a fine enough job during their deployment. The least he could do was reward the guy with a burger.

"Pretty soon," Bare replied, watching in satisfaction as the meat approached the perfect shade of brown. Damn, he loved cooking. "Another couple of minutes and they should be ready. Just save a beer for me, will you?"

Vinnie snorted. "What, you think I'm gonna finish this all by myself? Faith would kill me if I died from alcohol poisoning."

"Where is she, anyway? You two are usually joined together at the hip." Teddy noted.

"No idea," Weaver shrugged. "She's probably hanging out with the nerds, though. Said something about wanting to better understand their comic book weaboo jargon." He paused to take a swig of booze. "I warned her that's dangerous territory she's wandering into, but she just laughed it off. So help me God, if either of those two corrupt her, I'll fuckin' kill them both."

Bare snickered at his last comment, causing Weaver to glare at him.

"I'm telling the truth, you dumb ape! If there's one thing my deadbeat parents did right, it's never let me get exposed to all that useless geek shit. I wouldn't have survived the Slab if my head was up in the clouds dreaming about big titty goth girlfriends!"

Even though the sniper raised a decent point, his lack of tact combined with how serious he sounded made Bare laugh out loud. "Sorry, man," he apologized when Weaver's glare grew fiercer. "I get what you're saying. I've never really been into that kind of stuff myself."

"Sure, sure. Whatever." Vinnie grunted, relaxing back into his seat. He yanked the front of his hat over his eyes to blot out the Special Region's afternoon sun.

Teddy went back to flipping burgers, but his mind lingered on one thing in particular his squadmate said. He'd almost forgotten that Weaver spent the last three years before the Lightmass Offensive behind bars. It reminded him of someone else he served under long ago, someone who was also locked up for committing a war crime…

He looked over to the lazier Gear. "If you don't mind, Sergeant Weaver, I have a question for you."

"And I might have an answer." Weaver drawled.

"It's…" Teddy briefly hesitated, wondering if this was a wise idea, before carrying on. "Well, it's about the Slab. More specifically, it's about someone you probably knew there."

Weaver sat up and pulled his hat back, shooting his fellow sergeant a baffled look.

"You wanna know about…? Hang on a sec, I need to prepare for this."

He reached for his beer, then proceeded to down the rest of the bottle in under ten seconds.

"Ah, that hit the spot," Weaver sighed in bliss after he finished. The ex-convict smiled, and Bare noticed that his eyes seemed a little hazier than before. "Don't like discussing that hellhole unless I'm adequately drunk first, y'know? Or at least tipsy." He grabbed another beer from the case and popped the cap. "So, which son of a bitch are we talkin' about?"

In all truth, Bare had to give the sniper credit for agreeing to open up about the Slab. While he'd never been to the Jacinto Maximum Security Prison personally, he was familiar with the stories surrounding the place. Criminals sentenced there were typically expected to die, and those who weren't came out… changed. It said a lot about how desperate the COG was for recruits that they were willing to pardon all the inmates there.

 _Almost_ all of them, he corrected himself. Bare, along with a sizeable portion of the army, was well aware that Colonel Hoffman held a grudge against one war criminal in particular, and how that one disgraced soldier was left behind while the rapists, thieves, and murderers were set free.

Ironically, it was that very same Gear who would put Teddy's worst nightmare to rest – literally.

"Did you ever see Marcus Fenix while you were there?" he asked.

"Fenix?" Weaver echoed. He raised the fresh bottle to his lips and took a swig, visibly thinking. "The deserter from Ephyra, right? Yeah, I saw him around a few times, mostly in the cafeteria. Never talked to him, though. Guy always tended to make himself scarce."

He settled down to relax again before continuing. "I heard he recently got his rep back during the Lightmass Offensive. Him and Delta Squad were apparently the ones responsible for dropping the bomb on the grubs, as well finally killing fuckin' General RAAM."

The younger Gear was too buzzed to notice how Bare's fists clenched at the mention of the Locust commander's name.

"So, yeah. Fenix is on Sera being a big damn hero again; meanwhile, we're sitting on our asses catering to refugees who don't even know what toilet paper is. Whoop-de-doo. Why do you want to know, anyway?"

"Because I served under him once," Bare responded.

Weaver scoffed. "You pulling my leg? Get the fuck outta here, big guy."

"I'm not lying. He was my squad commander during the Battle of Halvo Bay, six weeks after Emergence Day." The older Gear informed him. "I was… twenty-two back then. Fenix and I were part of the same unit – Omega-Two, I think it was called? Anyway, our squad was tasked with taking out a pair of Seeders rooted near the Museum of Military Glory."

What Bare failed to mention was that the whole engagement was less like a battle and more of a massacre. "Destruction of Halvo Bay" was a far more accurate name, coined by some of the more cynical Gears who survived the city's fall. However, as terribly as early battles against the Locust went, this one was remembered by the COG for one good reason.

Apparently, Weaver was aware of that reason. "Halvo Bay? Yeesh, that must've been rough… Wasn't some Locust bigshot killed there or something?" he queried.

"That's right. General Karn," Bare confirmed, sighing as memories of the battle came flooding back to him. "Bastard had us pinned down at the museum's front entrance; there were reinforcements coming, but there was no way we would've lasted until they arrived. Sergeant Fenix was fucking _pissed_ , let me tell you."

"So how'd you guys get out alive?" Weaver asked.

Bare gave a low laugh. "A different squad – who I'm _dead certain_ was entirely composed of idiots – somehow managed to get access codes to a friggin' Lightmass Missile. They dropped the damn thing right on Karn's head!"

Oh, how he wished he could've seen the Locust General and his pet… whatever the fuck that thing was, get vaporized by the weapon of mass destruction. Even though a few of the grubs had been lucky enough to avoid incineration, that luck was short-lived once the COG's backup finally arrived.

"We were danger close, but the worst we got was minor burns and temporary deafness. I never thought I'd be glad to see one of our most historical sites get obliterated by a missile."

He'd left Omega shortly after they were pulled from the city. They were a good team, and Fenix, despite his eternally serious demeanor, was a great squad commander. Bare was shocked and saddened when he learned, ten years later, that the sergeant had been labeled a war criminal – the one bad deed Marcus performed during the Battle of Ephyra trumped every heroic act he'd done up until then. It made Bare doubt the man's trustworthiness for quite a while afterwards, but it was nice to find out he'd redeemed himself.

"That was a great story." Vinnie slowly and clumsily clapped his hands together, having gotten a little more intoxicated since his fellow sergeant began his tale. "Really, any story involving blowing shit up gets my approval. Especially when it's grubs getting blown up. Oh, and Bare?"

"Yeah?"

"The grill's on fire."

"Huh?" Bare snapped his head to the grill. To the master sergeant's horror, his precious patties were slowly being consumed by growing flames. "Oh _shit_ -!"

He was so caught up in the old war story that he'd forgotten he was cooking something. Bare quickly fanned a hand over the burgers, hoping to salvage them before they became a lost cause. When that didn't work, he started blowing air at them.

Nope. If anything, his attempts at putting the fire out only made it worse – almost the whole surface of the grill was now engulfed. He was momentarily tempted to yell at Weaver to run and grab a fire extinguisher, until he realized the sniper probably wouldn't be much help in his inebriated state.

 _Dammit, how did I forget to bring a fire extinguisher?!_ Teddy's mind berated. _This is the only grill on base! If anything happens to it, a lot of Gears are gonna be really pissed off!_

His mental scolding was interrupted when a blast of frosty wind washed past him and over the grill, snuffing out the flames in the span of a few seconds.

Bare looked over to where the gust had come from and saw Lelei standing there, pointing her catalyst in his direction. She lowered it when she saw that the fire was out, staring up at him with her usual stoic expression.

"Smelled something burning. Came to investigate." The young mage said simply.

Bare exhaled a long breath of relief, grateful that she'd arrived in time to prevent a more serious accident from happening. The burgers were charred beyond recognition, but at least the grill was safe. The base's cooks weren't going to skin him alive.

"Lelei, right? I thank you for help." Bare replied, switching to the Special Region language. He walked over to the girl and gave her a pat on the head. Her face scrunched up a bit, though she made no move to stop him.

He glared back at Vinnie. "You know, you could have said something earlier!" He growled. "Aren't you only here because… you're… hungry…?"

Bare's scolding died down when he realized that Weaver had fallen asleep, softly snoring, and with his beer bottle still clutched in one hand. Either he was a lightweight, or lazier than Teddy first thought.

The burly Gear sighed, then looked back at Lelei. He'd made an effort to keep in touch with her during their trip back to Alnus, checking in to make sure she was alright after the horse incident and the whole fiasco with the Fire Dragon. Bare couldn't put his finger on why he felt this way, but something about the blue-haired girl fascinated him.

Maybe it was her aptitude with magic. She and her master were the only two refugees to practice the craft; when he found out there were actual sorcerers in this world, he'd been absolutely flabbergasted. Even if it was true now that many fictional species and concepts were indeed real, Bare never would've imagined actual magic to be one of them. He was admittedly curious to learn how it worked one of these days.

Perhaps it was her talent for linguistics. For someone so young, Lelei demonstrated a remarkable amount of skill in the field of language, and had even learned to speak a handful of Tyran after only a day of living at the base. He saw her hanging around a Centaur tank crew earlier that morning, listening with rapt attention as they regaled her with tales of their exploits in a tongue she didn't fully understand.

Or maybe he just found her adorable to look at. Her strange blue hair, flowing robes, and unreadable expression combined to give her an exotic and mysterious sort of appearance, despite her youth and innocent attitude. While Bare doubted he'd get the chance to have children of his own in the future, if he ever did, he hoped they would grow up to look similar to Lelei. There was too much ugliness back on Sera, both figuratively and literally, so it was refreshing to have something (or in this case, some _one_ ) pleasant to look at for a change.

Reynolds wasn't wrong when she asked him if he was a softie at his core. Somehow, through all the years of pain and rage and loss, he'd kept that part of himself intact. It reminded Bare that he was still human.

Also, Lelei didn't creep him out nearly as much as that Rory girl did. That was a plus.

Bare used his spatula to sweep the ruined burgers to the ground, sighing in remorse at how they'd gone to waste. Good food like that wasn't easy to come by. Thankfully, he'd kept the rest in a cooler sitting nearby, and immediately set to work preparing a new batch.

He didn't miss how Lelei still stood rooted in place, watching with intrigue as the veteran placed more patties on the grill.

"Wanna help?" he asked politely.

The young apprentice lifted her head to stare him in the eye, seemingly surprised by his offer. She nodded rapidly.

Bare chuckled to himself, amused by her enthusiasm. She really was eager to learn everything she could about the COG and their strange gadgets, it looked like. That was good – it meant she'd taken an interest in their society and would have less trouble integrating.

"Okay, watch what I do." Bare gently flipped one of the burgers over. A part of him desired to show off and make a stunt out of it, but he tempered it. He didn't want Lelei to get the wrong idea and think it was mandatory, or try to imitate the action. "See? Nothing to it. Now you try."

She approached him, and he handed her the spatula. Bare felt a sense of pride as he watched Lelei handle the food, her expression one of sheer concentration. It almost felt like he was a father teaching his daughter how to cook.

He'd missed this, just hanging out with others and doing something normal. Maybe, if Lelei had time to kill later, he could show her a few more recipes.

" _Zzzz_..."

Like how to make hot soup to dump over passed out snipers.

* * *

While nobody knew exactly what season it was in the Special Region, it didn't escape the COG's notice that the weather so far had been nothing short of pristine. Taking advantage of the plentiful sunshine, some of Alnus Station's personnel had set tables up outdoors, giving the Gears and refugees a place to eat other than the somewhat cramped mess hall.

It had proven to be an immensely popular decision, Private Dalton noted as he scanned the area for a free table, lunch tray in hand. Behind him, Gyules hummed a happy little song, simply enjoying the positive atmosphere. Or perhaps he was subtly rubbing it in that he got the last of the raisin bran, leaving Alec with no other choice than to take the less-than-appetizing stuffed cabbage.

Then again, it was probably his own fault for coming here so late. He'd been so preoccupied teaching O'Nellis the finer points of comic books that he'd neglected food. He held no resentment towards the corporal, though; she had important questions for him, and any guy his age would've jumped at the opportunity to show a beautiful woman why geek culture was the best thing ever.

All around the private, his comrades in arms ate, laughed, and swapped stories about their time in the service. He mulled over the possibility of returning to the HQ's roof with Rudy in order to eat, until he spotted a mostly empty table several meters away. Mostly, save for a pointy-eared girl staring at two trays of food in front of her, a forlorn expression clouding her features.

"Hey, Tuka!" Dalton called out, waving to her.

Tuka Luna Marceau was startled out of wherever her thoughts were, looking up the approaching soldiers with wide blue eyes. She blinked once, cocking her head to one side.

The first thing Theta Squad had done for the elf after their debriefing was find her a new set of clothes. She was now dressed in a simple white short-sleeved shirt, a pair of blue skinny jeans, and red sneakers that matched her neckerchief – the sole remaining part of her original outfit. Unfortunately (or not, depending on who you asked), the shirt and jeans appeared to be a couple sizes too small for her, leaving her stomach and some of her lower legs exposed.

Not that any of the male Gears were complaining, Private Gyules least of all. No doubt the otaku was remembering how he saw her naked in the Packhorse almost a week ago.

"Mind if we sit with you?" Dalton asked in the native tongue.

"Huh? S-Sit?" Tuka replied, seeming confused by the mundane question. She quickly collected herself, however, and shook her blond head. "N-No, not at all. I was waiting for someone, but he must be too busy to eat right now."

The elf's answer only served to puzzle Alec. She was waiting for someone? She didn't seem particularly close to anyone on base, so who could it be? He pondered it as he sat down across from her, Gyules taking a seat next to him.

He decided to take a random guess. "Is it Bare?"

"Hm?"

"Bare," he repeated. He flexed his arms, trying to do an impersonation of the heavy weapons specialist. "Big man with the ink. He pulled you from well."

"That was him?" Tuka gawked, leaning across the table. "He's the one who saved me?"

Dalton nodded. "We all helped, but yes. Bare did most work."

"Oh…" She sat back and adopted a thoughtful look. The young Gear couldn't tell what she was thinking about, though he figured it would be rude to push for an answer, so he decided to drop the subject unless she brought it up again.

Of course, it would've been even ruder to ask if he could trade his plate for hers, or her mystery guest's. Alec eyed both bowls of cereal enviously, then shifted his gaze down to his cabbage. He was no chef, but that shade of yellow didn't look normal. He cursed himself for getting so easily distracted earlier.

"I boldly go where no man has gone before," he declared in a low voice. Mustering what little actual courage he possessed, Dalton speared a roll of cabbage with his fork and popped it in his mouth.

It took less than a second for his eyes to water and his cheeks to puff up.

 _Sour sour sour sour SOUR-!_

He immediately spat the revolting food back onto the plate, hacking and coughing as he tried in vain to get the vile taste out. Dear god, who thought this was edible?!

Through his agony, he heard several conversations cease; some of his fellow Gears were obviously wondering what the fuck was happening. Evidently no one else had made the same mistake as him. They were smart.

"Are you okay?" Tuka inquired in concern.

He wanted to respond with "Does it _look_ like I'm okay?", but it ended up coming out as a retch.

Gyules, the blessed friend he was, wordlessly handed the suffering private his carton of milk. Dalton gratefully accepted it, tearing open the packaging and greedily downing the drink in a few gulps.

"Oh my god, that was _nasty_ …" He said once he could talk without puking. "Rudy, I don't care what Sergeant Weaver says, you're a lifesaver. I owe you one, man."

The otaku shrugged modestly. "Happy to be of assistance, bro. Actually, it's funny you should say that – there's something I've been wanting to ask you."

"Yeah? About what?" Dalton shoved the tray aside, concluding that going hungry until dinnertime was an infinitely better alternative than eating one more leaf of that rotten cabbage.

Gyules sighed, moving his own tray as well. "Alec… we've known each other for almost fourteen years now." He stated. "We've stuck together ever since we were children fleeing to Jacinto. We always came out side by side, through thick and thin, never judging each other over our flaws or interests. Our friendship means the world to me… both worlds, technically speaking."

Oh shit, this was gearing up to be a serious question. Rudy never got sentimental unless he had something of the utmost importance to discuss; the fact that he was reflecting on their first meeting implied this was a question he'd been meaning to ask for years. Dalton gave him his full attention, prepared to hear what his best friend had to say.

"But you know what's funny? In all the time I've had the pleasure of knowing you, you've never once told me who your ideal waifu is."

If there was a record player nearby, it would've scratched.

"…What the _fuck_ , dude." Alec deadpanned. So much for having a meaningful moment.

Oblivious to his friend's dumbstruck state, Gyules continued, "Ever since we came to the Special Region, you've displayed no signs of romantic interest in any of the fascinating ladies we've encountered so far. This world is incredibly diverse – we've met an elf, a sorceress, and a gothic Lolita, to name a few, yet you've made little effort to fraternize with them. It's got me wondering what type of woman has the best chance to claim your heart."

"Okay, first off, all three girls you listed are underage," Dalton argued. Well, maybe Tuka was legal, but he wasn't going to give Rudy ammunition. "Second, you damn well know our interests are different. And third, we're _Gears_. We have to be professional in our relationships."

"So you _don't_ think O'Nellis and Weaver have a secret thing going on?"

"How is that-? I dunno, man, but that shouldn't be something to encourage!" Alec said exasperatedly.

Tuka, who had gone back to eating after confirming that Dalton wouldn't die a cabbage-related death, looked up when he raised his voice but didn't offer any input. It was to be expected – the soldiers' conversation was entirely in Tyran, a language she had no knowledge of whatsoever. Although in this case, it was likely for the best.

"C'mon, throw me a bone here, bro." Rudy pressed, annoyingly persistent about this absurd topic. "I'm only curious to find out what qualities make you tick. That way if I ever meet a woman who matches your description, I can put in a good word for you."

Dalton knew his friend well enough to understand there was no way out of this other than telling him what he wanted to hear. Better to bite the bullet and get it over with, he grudgingly conceded.

The saner of the two Gears sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Okay, fine, you win! If we're talking Special Region fantasy, then I guess my ideal woman would be a… a… I dunno, red-haired knight commander!"

He'd just pulled something completely out of his ass, but apparently it was enough to satisfy Rudy. The blond-haired soldier nodded in acceptance, making a contemplative sound, before folding his hands together and looking Dalton straight in the eye.

"That's an unusually specific set of requirements. Tell me, what source material made you decide this was your perfect waifu? I don't recall seeing any anime or manga recently that would spawn those desires."

"…So, Tuka!" Alec shifted his attention to the elf. "You like it here? Everything okay?"

She nodded, smiling. "Oh, it's been wonderful! Your people have been very kind to me. Though I hope I'm not overstaying my welcome…"

"Not a problem. Time of change for everyone," he assured her.

Dalton continued to chat with their otherworldly guest, pointedly ignoring Gyules, who kept badgering him for a response. He loved the guy, but damn if he wasn't a handful sometimes.

* * *

Meanwhile at a different table, Reynolds, Weaver, O'Nellis, and Hutch were all sat together enjoying their own meals. Currently, Weaver was entertaining his squadmates with a story, though it wasn't a tale related to war.

"So this happened about two days before we went through the gate," he began, leaning back and placing his boots on the table.

O'Nellis knew he only did that because he could get away with it. Reynolds, by this point, seemed to have gotten used to his unprofessional antics, so she merely rolled her eyes instead of reprimanding him. Hutch wasn't even paying attention; the medic hadn't touched his food, either, too focused on a certain refugee close by to do anything else.

Faith glanced to where he was looking and saw Tuka sitting with Dalton and Gyules. The three of them appeared to be getting along, talking and smiling like any group of friends would. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so she returned her attention to Vinnie.

"Before I continue, are any of you guys familiar with the CIC bathroom in Wrightman Base?" Weaver asked.

Both females nodded grimly. That particular restroom was infamous among the base's staff. For unknown reasons, it was the only private spot in the building where you could get a decent Wi-Fi signal, a fact many people abused by hogging it for much longer than necessary. O'Nellis often resorted to knocking to the rhythm of speed metal songs if she had to wait longer than ten minutes – an obnoxious but useful trick she'd picked up from Vinnie during boot camp.

"You'd probably expect me to be one of those guys who dicks around on his phone while a line forms outside." Weaver stated. "Not the case. I ain't _that_ cruel… but that's beside the point. Anyway, I'm in there taking a leak, when some jackass starts jiggling the door handle like their life depends on it. You know the type."

Again, O'Nellis and Reynolds nodded. There was a lock on the door for a reason, since some idiots couldn't be bothered to do the polite thing and knock first. Those kinds of people were the absolute worst.

"So I yell out 'occupied', but the moron didn't take the hint. They kept fuckin' trying to force their way in! I mean, can't you let a guy tinkle in peace? I was feeling pretty pissed by then."

"What did you do next?" Reynolds inquired. O'Nellis had a hunch their CO was expecting his answer to be inappropriate, as was the sniper's norm.

She was correct. Weaver snickered, not looking sorry at all. "I shouted, 'Are you really that desperate to see some dick?!'"

"You didn't!" Faith giggled.

"I totally did," the hat-wearing Gear insisted. "The bastard stayed quiet after that. It felt good to put them in their place, lemme tell ya. But it only gets better… I finished up, washed my hands, and opened the door to leave. And do you know who was standing on the other side? The one responsible for pissing me off?"

His two-person audience leaned in closer.

"Victor fuckin' Hoffman."

The table exploded into laughter, both women caught by surprise from the revelation while Weaver just laughed for the sake of laughing. They were joined by a few other Gears who'd been eavesdropping on the story. The only one who didn't seem to find it funny was Hutch, though in his circumstances it could be excused.

"No way!" Reynolds managed to say in between giggles. "No fucking way! You seriously dissed the _colonel_?"

Weaver grinned, happy that he wasn't being yelled at for once. "Yep. At first I thought to myself, 'Oh shit, I've really gone and fucked up this time', but you know something? I had nothing to apologize for. This wasn't about military matters; it was over a fucking _bathroom_ , and just because he's top brass doesn't give him permission to waltz in when I have my pants around my ankles. I just told him to knock next time and got the hell out of there."

"That's it? You weren't punished?" the corporal asked. Even if he did get in trouble, it must've only been a light punishment, otherwise he would've mentioned this incident to her earlier.

"Officially, no, I wasn't." He replied. "However, I did notice that my rations that night were suspiciously smaller than everyone else's. It was nothing to make a fuss over."

Theta Squad's designated marksman started wolfing down his cereal, indicating that the story was finished. He was joined by the others, and three of the four of them ate in silence for several minutes afterwards.

"You know, Private Hutch, some people might get the wrong idea if they saw you staring at Tuka," O'Nellis pointed out. She grinned mischievously, the dark sunglasses she wore hiding the twinkle in her mismatched eyes. "What's the deal? Is her shimmering radiance causing the ice around your heart to finally melt, freeing a lonely soul yearning for companionship?"

"No."

"Hmph. You're no fun." She pouted.

"I'm worried about her," the medic confessed.

That statement brought everyone's attention to him. This was the same man who showed no outward signs of fear when they battled the Fire Dragon; if the elf had a severe enough problem to make Wes Hutch feel uneasy, then it had to be something really, really bad.

Reynolds' expression turned serious. "Is something wrong with her? If there is, are we talking Rory wrong, or something different?" she asked.

O'Nellis exchanged a glance with Weaver. He shrugged, equally clueless. Therein lay another mystery: everyone in Theta was aware that Rory Mercury was no average human, and Hutch's in-depth examination of her more or less confirmed that. However, whatever the priestess' true nature was, it was kept a closely guarded secret between the Med Corps and the COG's officers.

"It's nothing like that." Hutch assured her. "Tuka's behavior since we arrived has been… somewhat troubling. She requested a second set of clothes earlier today, a man's outfit. And if you'll notice, you can see she has two plates of food."

"Maybe she's just hungry?" O'Nellis suggested.

"And has a thing for men's clothing?" Reynolds added.

"Or maybe she's a weirdo?"

Three pairs of eyes stared at Vinnie.

"What?" the sniper said defensively. "We don't know shit about elves. Who's to say she doesn't sleep standing up?"

"While Sergeant Weaver is correct in pointing out our lack of information, the other refugees have also been unable to provide an adequate solution." Hutch stated. "I attempted to ask Cato and Lelei about her. Cato said she's a very rare type, even among elves, meaning his knowledge of them is… insufficient. Lelei was likewise unable to offer advice."

Reynolds wore a contemplative look. "She _did_ lose her entire village and family recently," the lieutenant pointed out. "I'm no psychologist, but do you think it's some form of coping mechanism?"

Short of OCD or perhaps having an imaginary boyfriend, O'Nellis couldn't think of a reason why Tuka would request those extra items. The rational side of her said that Hutch was probably just over-thinking the situation. It had only been one day, after all; if the elf made this behavior a habit, then she might become worried later, but it was still too early to draw conclusions.

"I… don't know," the medic admitted, sounding almost ashamed. "Further observation is required."

"I'll put a word out to the rest of the squad to keep an eye on her, then." Reynolds decided. Her eyes flickered between the sniper-spotter duo, subtly letting the pair know her order included them. "We'll leave this alone for now, but if Tuka Luna Marceau does something to warrant an intervention, report it to Private Hutch. That girl is our responsibility now."

The three Gears nodded in silent understanding. As they went back to their food, with Hutch finally joining in, O'Nellis stole another glance at the blond elf nearby.

She was still sat with the two youngest members of the team, giggling softly at some story Gyules was telling. The corporal felt a twinge of pity for the girl. Even though she seemed cheerful right now, the loss of her village must've really hit her hard. At least Koda's residents managed to evacuate before their home was destroyed – Tuka wasn't as fortunate, if that was even the right word.

The COG could provide all they wanted, but to the refugees, Alnus Station would never truly be "home". It was a sentiment Faith and many other Gears from outside Jacinto shared.

* * *

 **(Lorn Village Inn, Sunset)**

Many miles away, a survivor from the Second Battle of Alnus Hill was resting in his bed, gazing out the window of his private room at the setting sun. The Lion of Elbe was a shell of his former self – his once brown hair having turned white as snow from the trauma notwithstanding, the royal's left arm and leg were gone; a physical reminder of what he'd lost at the hands of the Blue Golems. Anyone who saw him would assume he was just a crippled old man, and not a king.

There were times where he debated whether or not he should consider himself lucky for his survival. He'd blacked out after taking a direct hit from one of the golems' spells, not even bothering to try and run. A lion never fled with its tail between its legs. If he was indeed fated to perish – and death seemed so certain back then – then he would die as he lived, a valiant warrior who fought to the bitter end.

He mentally scoffed. How unbelievably _idiotic_ he'd acted during that massacre. His sole purpose for attacking the enemy, to avenge the King of Mudwan, had cost him far more than an arm and a leg. It also cost him thousands of innocent soldiers; an army who'd been relying on him to bring them back home safely. Even though the golems were the ones responsible for killing his men in droves, the old knight felt equally guilty. He'd essentially ordered his extended family to their deaths.

If it hadn't been for a few of his most loyal troops refusing to abandon their leader on the battlefield, he undoubtedly would've joined those doomed souls.

Now he was here, in some small village whose residents graciously gave him and his accompanying men a couple of free rooms, with nothing better to do than reflect on his failure. He wondered if the gods would ever give him a chance to atone. Seeing how his condition was, it didn't seem likely.

His ears picked up the sound of the door opening. Strange… there was still another half hour left before his guards were scheduled to bring dinner. He rolled his head over, and was moderately surprised to see Emperor Molt's daughter enter the room.

"King Duran!" the Imperial princess gasped, shocked to see the once-mighty King of Elbe reduced to such a pitiful state.

"Princess Piña? What brings you all the way out here?" Duran asked her.

While he held no love for the Empire or its ruling family, especially after recent events, he could acknowledge that Piña at least held a sense of decency her father and brothers lacked. He'd met her once before when she was still a knight in training, all smiles and eagerness to prove her worth not just to her father, but to soldiers across the continent. He'd admired her dedication in founding an Order composed mainly of women. In the Empire and its vassal states, it was generally the men who did all the fighting.

A quiet shame she wasn't next in succession for the throne, he thought somberly. She wouldn't have amassed the largest army in Falmart's history just to watch it get decimated on purpose.

"My knights and I have been tasked with searching for information on Alnus," the redhead answered. "I heard from a waitress that a man of high birth was recuperating from his wounds here. I'm glad to see she was correct, and that you're alive."

"…Information?" Duran whispered in a scratchy voice.

 _Has Molt learned NOTHING from this war? Now he sends his own flesh and blood to spy on the Blue Golems?!_

The king's remaining fist clenched. At this rate, the Emperor was bound to anger the golems again – as if they didn't have enough reasons already to be pissed off at the man. Duran hadn't been left out of the loop regarding the Imperial Army's botched invasion of the enemy's homeland.

"You mean you don't know what happened at Alnus?" he growled. The old warrior's eye narrowed when Piña flinched. "You haven't heard _anything_ about what happened to the allied nations' armies? Nothing at all?!"

 _And your bastard father didn't warn you? Molt Sol Augustus, you are a sick, despicable excuse of a man._

The princess squirmed in place. "I… I know that the allied armies were defeated, but…" She trailed off, not sure what else to say.

"The Imperial Army was defeated before we even fought, yes?" Duran stated, referencing the first attempt by the Empire to reclaim Alnus Hill. "The Emperor knew that, and yet he called upon the armies of the allied nations anyway."

"I was under the impression we simply needed more manpower," Piña claimed, though whether she was being honest or not, Duran didn't care. If she wanted facts, she would get them. Even if they weren't the ones she was looking for.

"If sixty thousand soldiers weren't enough to kill one Blue Golem, what would throwing more men at them accomplish?" the Lion of Elbe shot back. "No, your father saw his vassals as a threat to the empire, so he used the enemy to get rid of us."

"That's not true!" Piña insisted. She moved to the side of the king's bed and knelt down next to him. "I know Father can be… ruthless, but he would never do something so underhanded! He simply fought back the only way he knew how!"

Maybe she had a point. Maybe not. Duran was too tired and in too much pain to debate the Emperor's moral standards. He sunk his head into the pillow and sighed, thinking back to the terrible tragedy that befell his army that fateful day. He'd admittedly screwed up, and badly, though he wouldn't have even been there to make those mistakes if Molt hadn't summoned his forces.

He closed his eye, inhaling a deep breath. "Princess… the allied armies fought to the very end. But our true enemy was to our rear." He said softly.

"Your rear?" he heard her ask in confusion.

The eye opened and he faced her, scowling dangerously. "Don't you understand? _The Empire_! The Empire was our true enemy all along! With your own army in tatters, Emperor Molt was desperate to avoid a power play! The Blue Golems were merely a means to an end!"

Piña gave a shuddering gasp, seemingly unable to wrap her mind around the idea that her father could hatch such a heinous scheme. She reached across the bed and took his hand in both her own, staring at the king with pleading red eyes.

"Your Highness, at least tell me what you know of the enemy!" she cried.

"Get off me!" Duran snapped, wrenching his hand away from her. "If you want to know, go to Alnus Hill yourself! I'd bet a fortune your wretched parent is expecting you to die there!"

The princess stood upright, glaring down at the incapacitated man. She audibly swallowed.

"King Duran, if you refuse to cooperate, then… then I'll have no choice but to order every trace of the Elbian Kingdom razed to the ground, beginning with you!"

The brief hesitation in her voice undermined her threat. She may have been Molt's daughter, but she obviously hadn't inherited his ruthless streak.

Duran couldn't help it. He chuckled.

"Do it, then." He challenged her. "By all rights, I shouldn't even be alive. Death would be a release for me. At least I'd finally be reunited with my people in the afterlife, free from the Empire's meddling."

The young knight opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. It took her a few moments to think of a sufficient comeback.

"If death is what you seek, then I won't grant you that favor." She said at last. "I hope you recover soon."

She said those last words with a drip of sarcasm, causing Duran to chortle again. He liked the girl's spirit. If anyone in the Imperial royal family didn't deserve to be executed for following along with Molt's insane plans, it would be her alone.

On that note, the king could sympathize with Piña's desire to protect her home country, though she still had no idea what she was getting into with her investigation. He called out to her as she moved towards the door.

"Wait, princess. Before you go, I do have one thing to say about the enemy."

"Oh?" She turned around, eyeing him pensively. "And what might that be?"

Duran steeled himself as memories of his last battle washed over him. The smoke, the screams, the projectiles, the deafening explosions surrounding piles of corpses and rivers of blood…

"Beware the Blue Golems," he warned ominously, boring into her with his one good eye. "Their knowledge of sorcery is without equal. If you really desire to travel to Alnus Hill, do _not_ approach with hostile intent. Out of hundreds of thousands, I was the only one able to get close enough to attack, and look what it's cost me."

Piña watched him a bit longer after he finished, then nodded in silent understanding. She left the room, leaving the King of Elbe to his solitude once more.

* * *

"Princess, you're back!" Hamilton exclaimed when she saw Piña exit the inn. "Did you learn anything?"

She, Norma, and Grey were left to lounge outside while the princess went to speak with Duran. If they had any complaints about that, they didn't voice them.

Piña frowned, thinking back to what Duran said about her father and his total disregard for the lives of his subjects. His words were blasphemous. A royal's job was to look out for the safety of their kingdom; inciting wars they knew they couldn't win was the exact opposite of that duty. Her father was better than that.

Then why did she still feel so… unsettled?

"Nothing we don't already know, I'm afraid." She replied, stuffing her newfound doubts to someplace they couldn't bother her.

Hamilton lowered her head. "Princess… forgive me for saying this, but please don't have us charge up Alnus Hill." Her tone sounded a little frightened, as if she expected Piña to lash out at her if she refused to obey such a command.

Fortunately for the Rose Knights, even if Duran hadn't given her a warning ahead of time, their leader was sensible enough to know that was a terrible idea.

"I'm not that stupid. But either way, we need to visit Alnus." Piña said. She looked to Norma. "Norma, how are the horses?"

"Fed, rested, and ready for anything!" the blond knight answered, patting his prized steed.

The princess nodded. "Wonderful. Grey, what's up ahead?"

"Italica lies between here and Alnus. It's the last major city until we reach the hill," the veteran knight informed her.

Italica, huh? She was familiar with the place, although she hadn't visited it in person. It was a major trading hub for the Empire, second only to Sadera in terms of economic influence. It sounded like a great spot to resupply and possibly gather more information.

"It's settled, then. Finish any business you have here and rest up for tomorrow. We leave for Italica at dawn."

* * *

 **(Alnus Station, Three Days Later)**

Tuka Luna Marceau was currently having what's referred to as "shower thoughts".

Life at Alnus Station was so much different than it was in the forest, she mused, down to the simplest things like eating and bathing. The bathhouse was no exception. The cold, metallic interior of the building was a far cry from the stream she used to clean herself in, and the thought of stripping naked in here made her greatly uncomfortable at first. At least she could control the water temperature – how those little knobs in the stall magically changed the water from hot to cold and vice versa, she had no clue, but she found herself enjoying it nonetheless.

It had taken Lieutenant Reynolds some time to explain how "showers" worked to the refugees. Once they had a basic understanding of their function, however, they'd become an instant hit. It was one more item on a growing list of marvels these people in blue armor possessed; everything they owned was infinitely more advanced than what the High Elves used. It made Tuka wonder what sort of magic the foreigners used to power their machines.

Her thoughts drifted to a semi-related topic as she applied something called "shampoo" to her long golden hair, steadily running her hands down its length. She still needed to meet and thank the person who rescued her from the well. Bare, if she was remembering his name correctly.

"This is an interesting way to bathe, isn't it?"

The elf let out a high-pitched shriek and covered her sensitive areas when Rory Mercury poked her head above the next stall over. Apparently the priestess had also taken an interest in the showers, and saw fit to experience one for herself.

"Indeed, it is." A different voice responded. A second later, Lelei's head appeared in the opposite direction of Rory's.

Tuka blushed, flustered and embarrassed at the sudden invasion of her privacy. She backed into a corner of the stall, wishing she could melt into a puddle and swirl down the drain.

"W-What are you two doing?!" she stammered.

"Making girl talk," Rory replied easily, grinning malevolently at the blond. She looked up at Lelei. "Though I wasn't expecting… I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Lelei La Lelena." The blue-haired mage introduced herself.

"Nice to meet you, Lelei. You can call me Rory. Anyway, I wasn't expecting Lelei here to join in… but hey, the more the merrier, am I right?"

"I guess…" Tuka said slowly.

Despite being 165 years old, her interaction with other girls was very limited. Her father was her best friend back in her village, and the two soldiers she'd talked with a few days ago were both young males. While they were friendly to her, she hadn't made an effort to seek them out since then. Suddenly being thrust into a conversation with these girls felt weird.

"I've never had an indoor bath before," Lelei noted, "if this can even be called a 'bath'."

Rory smirked. "Is that so?"

"I was originally part of a nomadic tribe called the Rorudo, so I've only ever bathed in rivers and streams. When I lived with Master Cato, there was a waterfall right next to our house." Lelei clarified. "What about you, priest- I mean, Rory? Did you have an indoor bath?"

"I did. The Temple of Emroy had a luxurious bath, designed by the greatest Imperial craftsmen in the country." She sighed, and her smile grew wistful. "But as an Apostle, I'm fated to wander throughout the land. So I'm pleasantly surprised to find a bath like this in the middle of nowhere… even if it works differently."

The demigoddess folded her arms on the rim of the stall and rested her chin on them. Tuka wasn't quite sure how she was doing that, considering her diminutive height compared to the stall's. Same with Lelei, now that she thought about it.

"But enough about that. I'm curious to know… there are thousands of soldiers on this hill, although we're only familiar with about half a dozen of them. Which one would you both say is your favorite?" she queried.

"My… favorite?" Tuka echoed. She let her posture slacken a little while she mulled the question over.

Did she like any of them better than the rest? She could say who she _disliked_ – the guy with the green hat didn't seem popular among either his peers or the refugees, and the man in white armor, while helpful, made her shiver for reasons she couldn't grasp. The rest of them were all around equal, treating her kindly and with respect. But did any of them really stand out to her?

"Mine would have to be Sarr-jint Bare." Lelei spoke up, breaking the elf from her thoughts. "He protected me from a rampaging horse back in Koda Village. He's also been teaching me how to make 'grilled' food. It's quite delicious."

"Wait, did you say Bare?" Tuka hurriedly asked.

She blushed again and shrunk back when two sets of eyes, one red and one blue, focused on her. "It's just that… well, I heard he was the one who saved me when I was lying unconscious in the village well…" She murmured.

Lelei nodded. "Yes. It should have been Thay-tuh Squad that saved you, and Bare is one of their members. I believe he handles their heavy equipment."

"I guess we're all in agreement, then." Rory declared. "Something about him intrigues me in ways I've never felt before. He possesses the spirit of a true warrior, and those muscles… mmm…" She licked her lips and giggled like a schoolgirl.

Tuka, a little weirded out by the Apostle, shared a glance with Lelei. The apprentice wordlessly shrugged, equally unsure if this was what "girl talk" was normally like.

"So Lelei, I, um…" The elf desperately searched her mind for a new topic, before settling on one that didn't sound creepy. "I've seen you hanging around the foreigners quite a bit lately. Have you learned much of their language?"

"A little. I'm still studying, and some of their terminology eludes me, but I've got a basic idea of what they're saying."

"Oh? Anything interesting?" Rory asked.

Lelei nodded once. "They're soldiers – or Gears, as they call themselves – from a country called 'Tyrus', and their government is known as the 'COG'. Apparently, there were other countries besides Tyrus on the other side of the gate."

"Wait, ' _were_ other countries'?" Tuka parroted.

"Most of the Gears told me they enlisted after their homes were destroyed in some kind of conflict," the blue-haired mage explained. "I tried asking Bare about it, but he just said it was best if we didn't get involved. Call it a hunch, but… I don't think the world beyond the gate is as majestic as we think it is."

The three girls were silent for several moments afterwards, each of them thinking about what that could mean.

For Tuka, the theory made her slightly nervous. Was the COG at war with another power back home? If they were, then she and the other refugees were taking a massive risk settling down right next to the gate. What would happen if the Gears' enemies crossed over? What would happen to her then?

What would her father do?

"Bare also said he wanted to show me something outside when I finish showering." Lelei continued. "He didn't elaborate, though I don't believe he would mind if you two came along."

* * *

 **(Alnus Station Outskirts)**

While most of the enemy soldiers' bodies had been removed from the earlier battlefield, the wyverns' decomposing remains still lingered. They were simply too large to bury conventionally, and with the refugees and other projects eating up his time, Captain Mayweather was forced to put the order to burn the dead creatures on hold. So they remained where they died; to some Gears, the mighty beasts' corpses served as a natural warning sign to potential hostiles that the COG wasn't to be messed with… or else.

To the trio of girls Master Sergeant Bare was watching over, on the other hand? They were as valuable as an untapped Imulsion mine.

He chuckled beneath his helmet as he observed them scurrying from corpse to corpse, peeling off the wyverns' scales and stuffing them into large sacks. He hadn't expected Lelei to bring friends along, but he didn't see any harm in it, and they seemed enthusiastic to help her collect some loot. The whole scene reminded him of an incredibly fucked up Easter egg hunt.

"Um… excuse me?"

Bare looked down at who had spoken. Tuka's blue eyes met his helmet's optics for only a split second before she averted her gaze, shifting awkwardly in place. He could hear the scales in her bag clink together as she fidgeted.

"You're… um, is your name Sarr-jint Bare?" she asked timidly.

"It is," he confirmed.

"Oh… good…" She exhaled a small sigh, then looked back up at him. "I'm Tuka Luna Marceau. You pulled me out of the well, remember?"

It would've been hard to forget. None of the other settlers had pointed ears, after all.

"I do."

"I wanted to thank you for that," Tuka said, pulling together a small smile. "You saved my life, and I'm very grateful. I didn't think I was ever going to escape from there."

…He did save her, didn't he? Not just her, but also Lelei and the residents of Koda Village. It seemed like his streak of bad luck over the years had finally been broken.

Bare returned her smile, even if she couldn't see it. "I was glad to help. Good thing we found you." He replied sincerely.

"Thank you…" Tuka's smile turned embarrassed. She looked away from him again, out into the graveyard where Lelei and Rory were busy gathering scales. "You know, I was wondering about how we were going to provide for ourselves in the long run. I was worried we'd have to sell our bodies to the COG…"

Umm… what?

The blond elf continued before he could ask her why she thought that. "But now I see we won't have to. With the amount of money we can get from these scales, we won't need to rely on you as much!" She cheerfully exclaimed. "We could even pay you back for your hospitality!"

"Whoa, slow down." Bare held up his hands to ease her excitement. "We help because we want to. Work hard, live well, and you pay us back fine."

Her smile grew into a grin. The master sergeant found he liked seeing her happy like this.

"Okay. I'll try, for your sake."

* * *

 **(Two Hours Later)**

Lieutenant Reynolds watched her team board their Packhorses with a satisfied expression. It was good to take some time off – even if the majority of that time was spent filling out paperwork – but the frontier was calling to her, and she was admittedly eager to head back out and keep exploring the new world. With the Fire Dragon out of the way, that task promised to be a lot easier this time.

However, the squad now had a pre-planned destination, a city called Italica. According to some of the locals, Italica was a major commercial hub in the Special Region. It sounded like a perfect opportunity to learn more about how this land's trading system worked.

She did a mental count of her soldiers, soon realizing that one of them was missing. Where was Bare?

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Lieutenant. I'm ready to go." A familiar deep voice said from behind.

Reynolds turned around, giving the heavy weapons specialist a warm smile… at least until she saw his new companions.

"Uhh… Master Sergeant?" she asked slowly.

"They follow me," Teddy grunted, jerking a thumb behind his back. Tuka, Lelei, and Rory were all standing near him, staring at the man like he was some sort of messiah. "They won't leave me alone."

Well, as long as he didn't do anything with them he wasn't supposed to, Reynolds didn't see a problem with that. In fact, it might be beneficial to bring them along. Their presence would likely help Italica's citizens realize the COG was there for peaceful reasons.

"What's in those sacks they're carrying?" the officer inquired.

"They're scales from the wyverns. Apparently they fetch a high price around here."

"Is that so?" Well, good thing they were driving to a place known for its finances. "Tell them to hop in. Nothing wrong with having a few guides!"

And so Theta Squad departed for the grand city of Italica, leaving Alnus Station behind. Unbeknownst to the Gears, however, a group of Imperial knights were also heading to the exact same city… and that both groups' fates would be forever intertwined as a result.

* * *

 **And that's it for this little "slice of life" chapter. Another fun fact: Weaver's story mirrors something that once happened to me at work. It was me in the bathroom, and my manager who kept knocking like an ass. Somehow I didn't get in trouble for yelling** **(probably because my co-workers know I have a short temper when it comes to rudeness).**

 **Italica's next, and that's when the story's really going to start gaining traction. All I can say is that it's going to be a total shit-show from the time they arrive to when they leave for Sera. Just because I don't plan to alter the overall plot, doesn't mean I won't make my own changes.**

 **Oh, and Bare ended up being the one stuck with the Special Region girls. How many of you guessed that? I dropped some hints in previous chapters: he pulled Tuka from the well, shielded Lelei from the horse, and was present during the initial meeting with Rory – who in turn can sense he's a hardcore soldier. In my opinion, other than Tuka, Itami never gave the girls much of a reason to follow him around. Bare is going to** ** _earn_** **their affections (and don't worry, I'm still not making this a harem story).**

 **So, uhh… too many reviews to respond to individually, so I'll just answer the most frequently asked questions:**

 **Q) Do you intend to cover** ** _Gears of War 2_** **?**

 **A) I do, but not until much later. My plans for that are very hush-hush. You'll all understand in time.**

 **Q) When does this story take place in the** ** _Gears of War_** **timeline?**

 **A) A couple of people still seem confused by the timeline of events in this story, so I'll summarize it: The gate opens two weeks after the first game's conclusion, and as any good lore fanatic knows, several months pass between the events of the first and second games. Events in Gears canon from this time are still happening; we'll just assume that Delta Squad wasn't deployed to the Special Region and are off doing their own thing on Sera.**

 **Q) Will the Onyx Guard make an appearance?**

 **A) The first segment of this chapter should answer that. Basically, while Theta Squad fills in the role of Recon Team 3, a separate team of Onyx Guards will handle the dirty work. They'll be introduced in a later chapter.**

 **I think that about covers it. Reviews help my mouth heal faster! (Please, I'm sick of applesauce and yogurt!)**


	7. The Princess and the Private

**I'd just like to take a moment and again thank everyone who's stuck with me so far. In terms of favorites, followers, and views,** ** _Semper Invicta_** **is now my most popular story on this site! I never would've gotten past the first couple of chapters if it hadn't been for your continued support. Even you, ghost readers who like the story but don't have accounts/are too lazy to let me know. I know your type – I'm guilty of the same thing.**

 **I've been looking forward to the Italica arc for a long time. Now that the introduction and filler content is finished, I'm ready to hunker down, grab some caffeine, and prepare to dive into the real meat of the story. Things are about to get good.**

 **Cookie to anyone who spots the** _ **Gears 3**_ **E** **aster egg reference in this chapter.**

* * *

 **(Road to Italica)**

It was another typical day in the Special Region: tall grass steadily swayed in the midmorning breeze, still lush and green somehow despite how it hadn't rained once since the COG first arrived in the new world. Every now and then, a small animal would dart out of the grass once they were confident that predators weren't lurking in ambush. The sun was shining brightly, as many of Sera's inhabitants were growing accustomed to, reflecting light off the two Packhorses rumbling down the dirt road between Alnus Hill and the city of Italica.

Seating arrangements had been changed around a bit, mostly for the sake of keeping the three local girls comfortable. Privates Hutch and Gyules were moved to the turret-mounted LAV; together with Sergeant Weaver, they were the three most likely members of Theta Squad to make the girls feel awkward or intimidated. As a trade-off, Corporal O'Nellis was moved to sit in the front Packhorse since the rear one would've gotten too cramped.

The scene inside the leading jeep was as close to a road trip-slash-party as one could imagine. Master Sergeant Bare made good on his word since the team's previous deployment, having duct taped a CD player to the dashboard. The soothing notes of an acoustic guitar along with the steady beat of drums drifted through the vehicle's interior. The massive Gear was bobbing his head in rhythm with the song, occasionally drumming his fingers on the steering wheel whenever a particularly invigorating segment played.

Lieutenant Reynolds softly hummed along with the lyrics, strapped in snugly in the passenger's seat. She was looking over an updated version of the map Koda Village's chief gave her the first time they visited the settlement. The map regrettably didn't encompass much more than the forested regions in the east, meaning Italica, which was situated to the northwest, was excluded. Still, it wasn't totally useless, and the nomad of their group was proving to be extremely helpful with navigating.

Lelei would often poke her head between the front seats, either to offer Reynolds insight on where they were, or to bombard Bare with a million questions about how the CD player worked. Somehow the blue-haired mage got the impression that CDs were lures used to capture the souls of lost musicians, and that the music player was a torture device designed to force them into performing whenever he wanted. It had taken the master sergeant more than twenty minutes to explain to her that no wandering spirits were being condemned to perform for them, and that the only magic involved was how the duct tape holding it in place hadn't come loose yet.

He'd meant it only as a joke, but she'd taken it literally. Now he was busy telling her what tape was and how it wasn't really a magical item.

In the back, Rory and Tuka were content to remain silent. While the priestess entertained herself by watching the jeep's occupants interact with each other, her elven companion was more reserved. Tuka spent most of the trip so far looking like a tightly coiled spring. She kept her hands folded in her lap, would flinch whenever the Packhorse hit a bump in the road, and would only lift her eyes to sneak glances at the Kashkuri woman across from her.

Faith O'Nellis' attention was currently glued to Issue #5 of _Netherkin_ – a comic book Private Dalton was kind enough to lend her, with the younger Gear stating he had multiple copies and that she could keep it if she wanted. With how captivating the story and artwork were, she was tempted to take him up on the generous donation.

"This is good stuff, Private. And you say you got this in Jacinto?" She raised her head from the comic and looked at him expectantly.

Dalton nodded. "That's right. There's this little store near the downtown area I like to visit when I have time off, and the owner says I'm his favorite customer. He's got every kind of illustrated literature for sale – comic books, graphic novels, Eastern manga, you name it." He paused to clear his throat, then continued in a somewhat embarrassed tone, "Gyules is a huge fan of manga, in case that's not obvious."

"So _that's_ why he never shuts up about catgirls!" O'Nellis crowed victoriously.

She remembered talking with him in Koda Village while the residents were preparing to evacuate. The incendiary trooper was friendly enough and had an endearing sort of innocence about him, although his choice of conversation topics had proven… strange. A faint memory from her childhood told Faith that catgirls were already a thing and that Gyules hadn't invented the idea, but she couldn't place her finger on why she knew that. Until now, thanks to Dalton.

"Are you also into manga?" she asked.

"Not particularly." Her squadmate replied with a shrug. "I know there are plenty of great ones out there, but most of them aren't colored in. Call me petty, but I like some color to go with my illustrations. Plus, I have to read them all backwards."

"No shit, is that a thing?"

"Yeah. Makes me wonder if that's why Gyules' head seems to be on backwards half the time."

The two shared a laugh at the otaku's expense. It felt nice having someone to laugh with… or more accurately, someone who laughed at things other than dirty humor and the misfortunes of idiots.

"I hear you on that one. Sometimes I wonder why Vinnie is always so cranky, even though he goofs off and sleeps every chance he gets." The corporal mused.

"Why do you hang out with him so much, anyway?" Dalton tilted his head in mild confusion. "No offense or anything, but the guy's a dick. Meanwhile, you've been awesome to talk with. I honestly don't understand how the two of you get along so well."

O'Nellis folded her arms and smirked under her mask. This wasn't the first time she'd been asked that question, and so far, nobody except her and hopefully Vinnie knew the answer. While Dalton was cool and all, he unfortunately wasn't going to get a free pass from her.

"That's a secret, I'm afraid." She told him cheekily. "Vinnie might be a dick, but he's _my_ dick."

An awkward silence passed between the two Gears.

O'Nellis covered her head in her hands and moaned. "That… came out wrong. I am _so_ sorry you had to hear that."

"Don't sweat it. I say stupid stuff all the time," Dalton hastily assured her. He changed the subject afterwards, much to her relief. "So, how do you think the guys in the other Packhorse are getting along?"

"Not very well, I'd wager. I doubt they're singing kumbaya in there." The brunette giggled.

"Yeah, probably not." Dalton agreed. Then she heard the private add under his breath, "Or _Mei Com_ , for that matter…"

* * *

Over in the rear jeep, its three occupants were pointedly doing their best to ignore one another. Weaver drove, with Hutch riding shotgun. Gyules was stuffed away in the back, crouched between ration packs, spare car parts, blankets, and a hundred other miscellaneous items whose functions he didn't know. None of them had spoken since they left Alnus Station a few hours earlier.

Even though Italica was further away from the gate than Koda Village, the Tessaria Highway was much less winding and more straightforward. Additionally, thanks to the concept of speed limits not existing in the Special Region, the team was estimated to reach the city limits sometime soon. Which was good – the tension in the air was becoming unbearable.

Finally, it was Gyules who broke the silence.

"Sooo… do either of you want to sing a song?"

"No." Hutch immediately declined.

" _Fuck_ no," Weaver added, sounding equal parts tired and annoyed.

"Okay…"

Theta Squad's youngest member stayed quiet after that, dejected that his suggestion was shot down. He was jealous of his best friend right now – Alec got to sit with all the women, while he was crammed away in the very back, with the two least social men on the team for company. It just wasn't fair. He would've behaved! It wasn't like he had ulterior motives for sitting up front!... Mostly.

 _Maybe I should tone it down a bit when I'm around Lieutenant Reynolds,_ Gyules pondered. _At this rate, she'll find a catgirl before I do and won't bother to tell me._

The three men continued their silent treatment of one another for a little while longer.

"I'm willing to play a game, if it'll help lighten the atmosphere." Hutch eventually said.

Weaver shot the medic a disbelieving look. "Seriously, doc? You of all people have a game in mind?" the sniper asked incredulously.

Hutch nodded. "Yes. It will be fun and educational." He reached into his medical bag and produced a sheet of paper. "I will now recite all 206 bones in the human body in alphabetical order."

Weaver gawked at the stoic Gear, completely taken aback by his idea of what constituted an enjoyable activity. For once, Gyules agreed with him.

"Recite every-? How the hell is that _fun_?!"

"Because it's in alphabetical order. Ahem…"

Gyules saw Weaver's hands grip the wheel tighter as Hutch began his extensive list; the whole thing was made doubly worse by the medic's flat, unchanging tone of voice. A part of him was secretly happy watching the sergeant get so ticked off – this was the perfect karma for all the times he called Rudy a weaboo.

"Weeb, find my gun and make sure it's loaded. I need to put it someplace else," Weaver ordered.

That was sort of an odd request. Gyules stared at the driver, his curiosity hidden beneath his helmet.

"Where, Sarge?"

"My mouth." Weaver grunted in response.

* * *

Back in the lead Packhorse, O'Nellis had returned to studying her new comic book, leaving Dalton to sit there and simply enjoy the music. It was loud enough that everyone in the jeep could clearly make out the lyrics, but not so distracting that she couldn't concentrate on reading.

That honor went to the blond elf who kept glancing in her direction, trying and failing to be discreet about it.

"Can I help you?" O'Nellis inquired, finally looking up from her comic. Seriously, this was the fifth time she'd caught Tuka in the act.

The girl let out a startled "eep", not expecting to be called out for her behavior. "I-It's nothing! I wasn't doing anything! Just thinking, that's all!" She nervously exclaimed, fidgeting as though her clothes were covered in Kashkuri fire ants. "Please, go back to your reading. I promise not to be a bother."

"Okay…" The corporal raised an eyebrow under her mask, then shrugged and shifted her attention back to the comic book.

She barely got through the next two panels when she heard Rory whisper something to Tuka. It was either "interested" or "hogtie" – the two words sounded extremely similar to one another in the Special Region language. Whatever she said, it was enough to make the elf gasp and nearly jump out of her skin.

O'Nellis looked up again, first at the two native girls, then at Dalton. The private shrugged helplessly, not sure either what was going on. Faith was ready to ask the gothic reaper what she meant when Bare suddenly spoke up.

"Lieutenant, I see something."

"What is it?" Reynolds broke her attention from the map to look at her unofficial second-in-command.

"There's smoke ahead, to our right," Bare replied, steadily bringing the Packhorse to a stop and turning the music off. All seven of the jeep's occupants crowded around the windows, trying to see what the master sergeant did for themselves.

Sure enough, a huge plume of smoke could be seen in the distance; a clear signal that someone or something of interest was nearby. The rolling hills hindered the group from getting a good view of the plume's source, though it was obvious to them that whatever was happening probably wasn't good. There was little reason to start a fire big enough to make that much smoke.

O'Nellis felt a sinking feeling open in the pit of her stomach. This was way too similar to when the Fire Dragon attacked Tuka's village.

Apparently, Private Dalton shared her thoughts. "This is the second time we've seen smoke rising into the sky…" he murmured.

"Lelei, does this highway take us by the source of that smoke?" Reynolds asked, switching into leader mode.

"Actually, it takes us right to it. That's supposed to be Italica over there." The young mage answered.

It took O'Nellis a second to realize her CO had asked the question in Tyran, and surprisingly, Lelei understood it. She really was a prodigy when it came to language.

"Any idea what might have caused it?" the lieutenant pressed.

"This has to be something caused by people. Someone must have started a… what was the word in your language? 'File'?"

"Fire," Reynolds corrected.

Lelei nodded. "Right. Fire. That has to be a fire, but it's too big to be an accident."

"I've got a bad feeling about this…" Tuka shivered.

Reynolds frowned, no doubt thinking of how the Gears and their allies should best handle the unexpected development. She reached for her radio and opened a channel to the other Packhorse.

"Theta Squad, keep a close eye on our perimeter. We may have a situation on our hands. Watch the skies, too."

 _"_ _And here I was wondering if you ran out of fuel,"_ Weaver's voice responded. _"Solid copy, LT. Hopefully we'll get to shoot something."_

The only one who didn't seem unnerved by the whole development was Rory. The Apostle of Death was smiling, fixated on the distant smoke like a cat eyeing a canary. This didn't go unnoticed by the others.

"What is it, Rory?" Bare asked her.

The reaper's smile grew into a full-fledged grin, and she licked her lips in anticipation.

"I smell blood…"

* * *

 **(Italica, South Gate)**

Piña Co Lada was in the middle of the worst day of her life. While most teenagers often said that whenever anything went wrong in their lives, in the princess' case, it wasn't an exaggeration.

"Push them back! We can break their center!" She hollered orders to the ramparts' archers.

A flurry of arrows erupted in response, raining down on men the Empire once called allies, now reduced to petty brigands. One of the city's defenders poured a vat of hot tar over the wall; screams of agony echoed over the battlefield as the victims' flesh was seared. It was a sickening display of desperation and cruelty from both sides.

Everywhere Piña looked were bandits. There were dozens of them – no, that wasn't right. There were hundreds. They were all clad in the armor of the kingdoms they once served, but with the respective insignias either removed or heavily altered, symbolizing their lack of allegiance to anyone but each other. Every one of them was vicious, bloodthirsty… and worst of all, more than a fair match for the local militia.

She could see what she presumed was their leader, mounted atop a horse and accompanied by a siren with green hair. She would have taken an opportunity to snipe him if she had a bow, but she sadly didn't have one in hand. Fortunately for the royal, however, he seemed to be getting agitated at his troops' lack of success.

"Damn it! Fall back! Fall back!" She faintly heard him yell over the sounds of chaos.

The raiding party obeyed without question, and before long, they'd beaten a hasty retreat to the southwest woodlands. Despite the archers taking out a few more of them while their backs were turned, the bulk of the marauders managed to escape.

Piña exhaled a weary sigh. They were gone for now, but she knew Italica's defenders hadn't seen the last of them. They'd be back once they had a chance to lick their wounds and reorganize. Speaking of which, she needed to do the same.

She turned away from her post at the edge of the wall and looked down into the South Gate's courtyard. The place was a bloody mess – bodies of both militiamen and bandits littered the ground, casualties from the early stages of the skirmish. A makeshift wooden barricade surrounded the perimeter of the courtyard, protecting the women and other non-combatants, who were currently tending to the wounded.

"Hamilton, Norma! Are you hurt?" Piña called down to her knights.

"I'm alive!... Somehow!" Hamilton shouted back, panting from exhaustion while she rested against the barricade. Norma, who was leaning against his sword for support, raised one hand to indicate he was also fine.

Good. They'd both made it. All the rigorous training the Rose Knights had endured over the years finally paid off.

"How cold. Are you not concerned about me, Princess?" the last member of her group asked as she made her way down a flight of steps.

Despite everything that just happened, Piña was able to give her mentor a sincere smile. "Your safety was never in doubt, Grey," she said warmly.

The veteran knight threw his head back and laughed. Grey's armor was a bit dented in places, and his greatsword was stained with blood, but he'd pulled through just like she knew he would.

She prayed their luck would hold until reinforcements arrived.

* * *

 **(Italica Market District, Ten Minutes Later)**

So this was what real combat was like, Hamilton mused as she followed Piña in the direction of Count Formal's private mansion. She'd spent nearly half her life training with the princess and other noble children on how to fight; to carry herself with righteousness and discipline as befits a knight, and to always fight with honor. What she saw today was nothing close to what she'd expected from an actual battle.

No… "battle" wasn't the right word to describe it. It was more like a one-sided massacre where the bandits preyed on Italica's helpless citizens, taking full advantage of the city's weakened defenses. Of course, things would've been much worse if the Rose Knights hadn't been there to take charge and lead the resistance.

She wondered if the mysterious foreigners at Alnus Hill felt the same way she did now when they were attacked by the Imperial Army and their allies; lost and confused. Probably not, since they'd proven they had nothing to fear from the Empire.

 _What I wouldn't give to have them on our side now,_ she thought somberly. _I know they're our enemies, but they could wipe out these bandits in no time._

All things said, she was growing worried about Piña. The princess' posture was as stiff as a board, and Hamilton didn't think she'd unclenched her fists once since they'd left Grey and Norma back at the southern entrance with the task of reinforcing it. Also, there was a question brewing in her mind, one that had been nagging her since they'd first arrived at Italica.

"Princess… why are we fighting bandits here?" she finally inquired.

Piña suddenly stopped, almost causing Hamilton to bump into her. She whirled around and fixed her page with a sharp scowl.

"How was I supposed to know it was bandits?" the older girl snapped, venting her built-up frustration. "When we got word of a large armed group invading Countess Formal's territory, I assumed it was the Blue Golems mounting a siege. So we raced here, only to find that the remnants of our own allied troops have turned to _banditry_!"

Hamilton blinked once, then twice. Wow. She hadn't seen the princess this angry in a very long time.

"Another question, Princess…" She continued cautiously. "Why do you keep calling the enemy soldiers Blue Golems, even though we've been told they're human?"

Piña's eye twitched. "Do you have a _better_ name for them?" she retorted.

Hamilton opened her mouth, then promptly shut it.

"I thought so."

The leader of the Rose Knights turned her attention to the civilians milling around the open street. Many of them looked worn out, and some were even napping against walls and carts, no longer able to stay awake after who knew how many days of attempted raids. Just how long had the city been under siege?

"You there! There's no time to rest!" she barked at them. "The bandits _will_ come back! Before then, we must dispose of the bodies and reinforce the barricades!"

She took a deep breath before continuing. "I've sent a message to the main unit. Three days! If we can last three days, my knights will be here to help! Hang in there until then!"

Hamilton took a moment to study her superior, watching her try to rub the tiredness from her face. She didn't look so good. There were bags forming under her eyes, and now that the adrenaline in her system was wearing off, she seemed ready to keel over at any moment. As her personal assistant, it was Hamilton's duty to make sure that didn't happen.

"Princess, why don't you take some time to yourself? Grab something to eat, and maybe sleep for a while." The young knight suggested.

"I can't. There's too much to do." Piña said with a heavy sigh. She massaged her forehead, then muttered something about how she couldn't let her father down.

"You're not going to be of any help to us in this state," Hamilton pointed out. "Please, Your Highness, go to the mansion and relax for a bit. Norma, Grey and I can handle the defensive preparations by ourselves."

"…Fine," Piña relented, giving another sigh. "Just take every precaution you can think of, and alert me if anything happens."

Hamilton nodded firmly and crossed a fist over her chest. "Right. I won't let you down, Princess!"

She nodded back, and the two of them parted ways; Hamilton headed back to the South Gate to help her fellow knights prepare for the inevitable next assault, while Piña resumed her walk to the estate.

* * *

 **(Formal Mansion)**

The Third Imperial Princess collapsed into a plush couch, rested her head back with her eyes closed, and heaved a massive sigh of relief. She'd removed the armored portions of her outfit, but still wore her signature blouse and skirt.

It had been difficult, if not impossible, to keep track of time during the battle, and this was the first time since this morning that she'd gotten an opportunity to sit down. Hamilton was right – she'd needed a few hours to unwind. Maybe now she would be able to better concentrate on what to do for the future.

"Excuse me, Your Highness?" a male voice asked politely.

Piña cracked an eye open to look at who'd spoken. The room she was in was also occupied by one of the late Count's butlers; a slim, elderly man dressed in fancy clothes and sporting a large yet well-groomed moustache. The man stood tall and rigid, as any trained butler should, patiently awaiting her response.

"What is it?" she groused. "Do you want to surrender?"

The butler seemed a bit taken aback by her blunt statement, but quickly recomposed himself as he watched her reach for a glass of wine. "N-No, I'm just wondering if there's some way to avoid more fighting." He replied after a second's pause.

"It's easy. Open the gates." Piña swirled the wine a little before taking a sip. Ah, that really hit the spot. "In exchange, you'll lose everything."

She fixed her gaze on him, though her mind was elsewhere, thinking of all the horrible things that would happen if the Imperials decided to take the easy way out.

"The men would be killed, and the women raped. I'm confident I could remain sane after one or two of them had their way with me, but not fifty or a hundred."

"Surely you jest." He said evenly. The princess forced herself to remember that he was a butler, not a combatant. He'd probably never held a weapon bigger than a dagger in his whole life.

Still, there was a good possibility that would change soon.

"If you don't like the sound of that, then you must fight. As hateful as war may be, if you focus too much on avoiding it, you'll end up losing everything." That was one of the first lessons Grey had drilled into her and the other members of her Order back when they were children. It didn't matter how kind or ruthless you acted or how influential you were; nobody was completely untouchable.

Except, perhaps, the Blue Golems. They were a proverbial hornets' nest that nobody wanted to risk kicking again.

Piña broke her gaze from the butler and sighed again. That was another problem in her rapidly growing list. She was supposed to be gathering information on their activities, but with the unforeseen complications in Italica eating up all her time, that left the enemy out there to do… whatever it was Blue Golems did.

It had just been one disaster for the Empire after another ever since the damn gate opened.

"Here you are, Your Highness." A new voice interjected.

Piña blinked, then looked up. She'd been so focused on her thoughts that she hadn't noticed the head maid, a woman in her late fifties named Kaine, enter the room. The older woman set a tray of food down next to the princess' wine cup.

The knight frowned when she saw the tray's meager contents: a plate with two pieces of bread on it, along with a small bowl of potato soup with sliced carrots thrown in.

Her frown didn't dissipate after she sampled some of the bread. It tasted little better than the appetizers back at Lorn Village's tavern. "Neither its flavor nor quantity are sufficient," she informed the maid after swallowing.

Kaine wasn't fazed. "If you fill your stomach with rich flavors when you're so exhausted, you'll surely fall ill." She calmly advised.

Piña raised a curious brow at her surprisingly knowledgeable statement.

 _How would she know something like that? Unless…_

"You've been through a battle like this before?" she inquired.

"I once lived in the town of Rosa." Kaine replied simply. Then her eyes suddenly sharpened, boring into the princess like needles; when she spoke again, her voice was laced with a touch of acid. "…It's Imperial territory now."

Piña's frown deepened. It didn't take a scholar to figure out what the maid was implying. Much of the Empire's goals revolved around conquest – if a kingdom or settlement couldn't stand against the Imperial Army in battle, then it meant they were too weak to survive on their own, and therefore needed the Empire's protection. That was what her father always told her, anyway, though Kaine's response made it clear that not everyone was on board with such a decision.

And look where conquest had gotten them now, the cynical part of her reasoned. The army finally bit off more than they could chew when they invaded the Blue Golems' homeworld. As a result, their military was crippled, the golems now had free reign of Alnus Hill, and the remnants of the allied forces sent to push them back had turned on the Empire. Her father had essentially sent her to try and clean up his messes.

If only he and Zorzal hadn't been so determined to expand the Empire's borders to another realm, none of this would have happened, Piña thought sullenly. The Blue Golems wouldn't have retaliated so fiercely. Hundreds of thousands of men wouldn't have died in vain. And she wouldn't be in Italica, fighting a desperate struggle to repel a rightfully furious new enemy.

"I see..." She said at last.

The princess ate the rest of her meal in silence, shadowed by the butler and maid who were ready to attend to her in case she needed anything else. Once she was finished, she stood up and stretched, popping a few vertebrae in her spine.

"I'll rest in the guest room. If there's important news, send it directly to me." Piña announced.

"Of course, Your Highness." Kaine bowed as the Emperor's daughter made her way over to the room's exit.

She paused before she opened the door, looking back at the head maid with a sly smile.

"What will you do if I don't wake up?" she asked.

Kaine straightened herself, her own smile resembling the ones antagonists often wore in low-budget slasher flicks.

"Splash water on your face until you do."

Piña's smile didn't waver. "Excellent."

* * *

She tried to stay optimistic, she really did, but the princess' mood tanked the moment she hit the bedsheets. Dozens of different strategies to formulate an effective defense filtered through her mind, though none of them came without some sort of fatal flaw. The more she thought about what kind of situation she and her knights were in, the more she realized just how hopeless it was to imagine they could hold out for three days until backup arrived.

"We've only a few trained soldiers. And the civilian conscripts… the brave ones are dying first." Piña said quietly to herself. She raised a forearm to her eyes to shield them from the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window. Unfortunately, it didn't come with curtains, something she'd have to ask Kaine or one of the other maids to fix later.

Only one of the militiamen was able to keep up with her constant stream of orders during the course of the battle; some shopkeep's assistant named Vylus. Come to think of it, his sword was the same type issued to Imperial army officers, suggesting a possible military background. Hmm. Perhaps she could shoulder some of her burdens on the man and give him more independent command.

…Who was she kidding? An inexperienced militia led by equally fresh knights didn't stand a chance against hundreds of soldiers-turned-bandits.

"Morale has hit rock bottom…"

Even now the marauders were out there, waiting and plotting, searching for the perfect opportunity to strike again. Unlike with Italica's defenders, time was on their side. They could blitz the city whenever they wanted, and there was nothing the princess could do about it.

Her fist grabbed a clump of sheets.

"This is how my first battle goes?" she whispered into the empty room. "This…?"

Piña closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep a few minutes later. She dreamed of happier times, easier times, back when she was a kid playing Order of Knights with the other noble girls and boys. She dreamed about how Hamilton caused a chain reaction when she tripped during marching practice, and how she'd coaxed Grey into teaching them how to fight like real warriors.

They'd spent seven years training in the ways of the sword and bow. The routines were back-breaking and mind-numbing, designed to test their endurance to the very limit. Not one of them had given up, however, and after years of honing their skills, Emperor Molt finally declared them an official regiment of the Imperial Army.

Thus, the Rose Knight Order was born. It had been the happiest day of Piña's life.

Until they were promptly shoved aside and forgotten. The men who showed the most promise were plucked from their ranks and inserted into the mainline army, while the women were relegated to being honor guards. _Honor guards_. Piña hadn't spent most of her teenage years killing herself with military drills just to stand around holding a banner; she wanted to _fight_ , to _prove_ to her father that she wasn't inferior to her brothers because of her gender and heritage. Her dream was over before it even began, and she seemed destined to never experience the thrill of real combat.

Then again, getting blasted to pieces by unknown magic didn't really sound all that thrilling. She'd largely stopped complaining after she learned of the Blue Golems' existence.

So she'd been shocked when her father chose her and her Order to go on an expedition into their territory, expected to succeed where a quarter million others, including the legendary Lion of Elbe, had failed. He was relying on her to collect enough information about the enemy to help formulate an effective counter against their mastery of death. Her knights were officially the Empire's last hope of winning this war.

Her feelings about the decision were mixed. Elation, anger, smugness, and fear all warred for dominance after she heard the order. On one hand, she was excited that her knights would finally be given a chance to prove themselves on the field. On the other, it was an extremely dangerous assignment, and a single slip-up could've spelled the end for them.

None of that mattered now, of course. Unless a miracle happened, and soon, it appeared that Piña Co Lada and her faithful knights were doomed to die before they even reached Alnus Hill. She would let her father and country down for the last time.

She could almost hear King Duran laughing at her in her dreams.

* * *

 **(Road to South Gate)**

 _"_ _Jeez, this place reminds me of the Slab after they served curry that one day."_ Sergeant Weaver said into an open radio channel.

Theta Squad was slowly approaching the gates to Italica, surveying the aftermath of what was clearly a battle. Bodies littered either side of the road, and some were even on it, forcing Bare and Weaver to drive around them lest the tires of their vehicles get punctured by shards of broken armor. While the corpses here were more intact than the ones buried around Alnus, they were still corpses, and the whole scene was enough to put the entire squad on edge.

"...Were there bodies in the cafeteria?" Dalton radioed back, unable to contain his morbid curiosity.

 _"_ _You damn well bet there were."_

"Drop the chatter, you two. We need to stay vigilant." Reynolds cut in.

The number of bodies increased as the Packhorses drew closer to their destination, causing the tension in the air to mount even higher. It wouldn't be long now until they were at Italica's southern doorstep.

It was also worth noting that Rory hadn't lost her grin since she picked up the scent of spilled blood.

* * *

 **(Formal Mansion)**

 _Splash!_

Princess Piña jolted awake when she felt cold water wash over her body. Instantly she sat up, darting her eyes every which way until they settled on the two figures at her bedside. Grey was frowning, looking slightly concerned, while Kaine stood next to him with an empty bucket in her hands.

"What happened? Is it the enemy?" the redhead asked hurriedly.

Grey rested an elbow in one hand and cupped his chin in the other, wearing a rare expression of uncertainty.

"I'm not sure if they're enemies or allies. Just come with me, please…"

* * *

 **(Italica, South Gate)**

The entrance to the town must've been a warzone, Lieutenant Reynolds observed when the Packhorses were brought to a half. The concentration of bodies was thickest here compared to anywhere else, and she could see the broken remains of a few ladders scattered here and there, no doubt used by the city's attackers to try and climb the steep stone walls surrounding it.

She could vaguely make out several people lined up along the south wall's ramparts staring down at them. They didn't appear to be soldiers, save for a blond fellow in some kind of shiny armor. Most of them were no better armored than an average citizen – that is to say, none at all.

O'Nellis gave voice to the question on everyone's minds. "Any idea what we should do now, Lieutenant?"

"Give me a second."

The gears in her mind turned while she thought of a decision. Eventually, she turned around to look at each of the Special Region girls.

"Lelei, Tuka, Rory… I know I have no authority to ask you this, but I'd like you to be the ones to enter first." She waited for Lelei to translate, then continued, "Remember, we're riding in vehicles only you three have any knowledge of, and the sight of them might scare some people. The townspeople will likely respond better if they saw something they're familiar with."

Tuka fidgeted a little. "Well… I'll do it, but elves are probably as foreign to this city as you are. I'm not sure how much help I'll be," she admitted.

"Don't worry, my dear. They won't bother you if I'm around to tell them not to." Rory assured her, patting the blond on the knee.

"I'm willing to help as well." Lelei said simply.

Well, that was the easy part out of the way. Now Reynolds had to decide who to send with them as a diplomat. After all, they were officially here on COG business, and it wouldn't do not to send a COG representative. The question was, who among the team was the best candidate?

She immediately ruled herself out, since she still didn't trust them to look after themselves and not do something embarrassing while she was away. They were a good squad, but they had their fair share of unprofessional moments.

O'Nellis was the next best option, but that meant Weaver would insist on going with her, and the lieutenant _definitely_ didn't trust him to behave around paranoid citizens. Bare was too physically intimidating, despite his kind nature and newfound friendship with the local girls, and Hutch was… well, he was Hutch.

She briefly considered Gyules, until memories of sing-along time surfaced. No. She wanted Italica's residents to see them as professional soldiers, not crazy.

That left only one option.

"Private Dalton, I'd like you to go with them." Reynolds ordered while the girls filed out the back of the vehicle.

"What?! M-Me? Why?" The young Gear jumped in his seat, not expecting to be addressed specifically.

"Because you're unassuming, that's why." The officer clarified in a teasing tone. Even with his helmet covering his face, she could tell he wasn't too thrilled with the idea.

"Look, just trust me, okay? We'll be on standby if you need us." She smiled when the perfect motivator suddenly came to mind. "Besides, you were the one who chased off a Fire Dragon. What's talking to a few civilians in comparison?"

"The Fire Dragon made it obvious that it was an enemy." Dalton replied bitterly. He soon sighed in resignation. "Okay, Lieutenant, I'll do it. Wish me luck, guys."

* * *

Piña, Hamilton, and Grey all peered through a slit in the gate, each of them transfixed on the strange armored vehicles sitting a couple dozen meters away. The princess, now back in her armor, almost didn't manage to keep up with Grey as the elder knight led her back to the south side. She'd wondered what could have possibly gotten him so riled up, and now she had her answer… sort of.

"What is _that_?" she asked rhetorically.

"A-An armored carriage, maybe?" Hamilton weakly suggested.

That would've been Piña's guess as well, but if they were carriages, then where were their horses? More importantly, why cover them in so much armor? No horse would've been able to pull that much weight. And where had they even come from?

"No. That's forged iron," she noted. "Whatever they are, they certainly aren't ours."

"Who's there?! If you aren't enemies, then show yourselves!" Norma called from the top of the wall.

Silence. Then, a blue-haired girl carrying a magical catalyst suddenly emerged from behind the lead vehicle.

Piña squinted to try and get a better look. "That staff… A true Lindonite mage?"

Why in the gods' names would a mage come to Italica at a time like this? Didn't she see how bleak the South Gate and its surroundings were? The princess didn't have a chance to ponder this before another person joined the wizard girl.

"And… an elf? True magecraft and spirit magic can make for a nasty combination…"

This just kept getting weirder and weirder. A mage and an elf riding together in an armored carriage? What was next, one of the Twelve Apostles showing up?

Piña gasped when a third individual stepped into view.

"Rory Mercury?!"

It was official: the gods were toying with her. Nothing – absolutely _nothing_ – could surpass the appearance of one of their disciples. Seeing as Rory was the protégé of the God of Death, her arrival in Italica when the city was under threat of assault didn't bode well for anyone. She was notoriously unrestrained with who she killed during battles, whether it was an innocent soldier or a bloodthirsty bandit.

Grey nudged his way into her view a little more. "Is that the famous Rory the Reaper?" he warily inquired.

"Yeah. I saw her once before, at a national religious service." Piña confirmed.

"But would an Apostle of Emroy really join forces with a bunch of brigands?" her mentor pressed.

Yes. Absolutely. One didn't earn the title "Apostle of Death" by being choosy with their victims. "Knowing that bunch, they might," she answered cynically. "The deeds of their god, to me, seem to be no more than simple whims."

Grey glanced at her, frowning in disapproval. "If the priests heard that, there would be trouble," he warned.

"I'm sure. But the words of their god are nonsense, anyway."

The old veteran removed himself from the girls, claiming he'd heard nothing and that he wouldn't be held accountable if the priests ever learned of her blasphemous words. He didn't need to be such a drama queen about it, Piña internally groused.

"What do we do, Princess Piña?" Hamilton asked.

The Rose Knights' commander looked behind her at the mob of armed citizens who followed them to the gate. They seemed apprehensive, probably wondering if they were about to see combat, and worrying about whether they'd survive if that was indeed the case. After everything they'd gone through recently, the princess could sympathize with their plight.

She turned back to her page and spoke in a hushed voice. "If Rory's church had joined forces with the bandits, Italica would've fallen already."

"That's true." Hamilton nodded.

It wasn't impossible to believe the mage and elf were followers of Emroy, and that Rory was leading them on a hunt… but if so, why spare Italica until now?

"But there's no proof they aren't our enemies!" Piña shut her eyes and grated her teeth, agonizing over the stressful decision. Did she let them in, or did she assume they were hostile?

 _What do I do?_

* * *

Meanwhile, Private Dalton and the girls were taking the last few steps towards the city's entrance. Once they finally came to a stop, the Gear holstered his Lancer and proceeded to remove his helmet, letting it dangle in one hand while he knocked on the door with the other.

"Why have you taken your helmet off? I thought you liked wearing it." Lelei noted.

Dalton smiled down at her.

"It's to show these people I'm human," he explained. "Gears can look pretty scary when we have our full suits of armor on, and I don't want anyone here to think I'm a monster or something."

The apprentice nodded in understanding. "That makes sense."

* * *

Piña almost shrieked when she heard knocking on the other side of the gate, followed by faint voices she didn't recognize. They were here. Whatever her decision was, she had to make it _now_.

She steeled herself for what she was about to do next. "Grey, Hamilton, hands on your swords," the leader of the knights commanded. "I'm going to let them in. If they're not enemies, then we must get them on our side!"

The redhead rushed to remove the length of wood barring the door, ignoring Grey's startled cry of "Princess!". She threw the gate open the moment it was free; in her haste, however, she failed to hear the loud _thwack_ as it collided with something.

"Welcome!" she merrily exclaimed.

The three females hadn't paid any attention to her greeting, however. Instead they were staring at the ground, each of them looking mildly disturbed for some reason.

Piña followed their gaze and blanched at what she saw. She'd accidentally beaned a fourth person in the forehead when she'd pushed the door open. He was a brown-haired human male, likely not that much older than her, and clad shoulder to toe in heavy blue armor. Whoever he was, he was out like a light.

She looked back up at the odd trio.

"Was that… my doing?" the princess asked meekly, even though she already knew the answer.

All three of them nodded.

Piña's eyes returned to the unconscious man. She'd missed it before, but there was a strange object resembling a severed monster head laying next to him. No – upon further inspection, she realized it was some kind of helmet, one with a blue glow emanating from the eyeholes.

Actually, nothing about his armor seemed familiar. It didn't look like it was made from iron or steel, and the blue cuirass and shoulder pads covered baggy gray underclothes. Hold on a second… blue armor…

Blue…

 _Blue._

Piña went sheet white all of a sudden, her knees threatening to buckle under her weight.

 _Oh no…_ She thought with a rising sense of panic. _It can't be… Oh please, gods, don't let this be what I think it is… Oh no no no no no no no NO!_

 _IT'S A BLUE GOLEM!_

* * *

Back by the Packhorses, every Gear who had a view of the scene cringed when Dalton took a door to the face.

"Damn, I could hear the impact from here," Bare shuddered.

"Do you think he's dead?" O'Nellis wondered out loud.

Reynolds, for her part, placed a hand over her eyes and sighed. "Dammit, Private, the one time you decide to remove your helmet…" She trailed off, mumbling something incoherent under her breath.

"Should we… you know, go out there and make sure he's okay?" Bare asked hesitantly.

The officer sadly shook her head. "I'd like to, but the citizens might take that as a sign of retaliation, and we don't want to provoke them. They seem on edge enough as it is." She informed the master sergeant. "Besides, they're already dragging him inside. I guess it's up to the girls to make sure nothing else happens to him."

Both her subordinates nodded. She had a feeling they didn't entirely agree with her choice – hell, a huge part of her didn't like the decision, either – but they didn't vocally protest.

She figured the best thing to do now would be to radio the second jeep, just in case the other half of her squad somehow missed what transpired.

"P-Seven, this is Reynolds. Private Dalton is Tango-Two; I repeat, Private Dalton is Tango-Two. Stand by until further notice."

 _"_ _Try telling that to Doctor Monotonous over here!"_ Weaver answered back shortly. He sounded irritated, more so than usual, and Reynolds could hear struggling noises in the background. _"We saw the dweeb get owned by a door, and now he keeps trying to get out and run over there!"_

 _"_ _He is injured. I must help."_ She faintly heard Hutch reply.

 _"_ _Yeah, well you can help_ me _by not being such a fucking pain in the ass!"_

"Stay put, Private Hutch. That's an order!" Reynolds raised her voice to let him know she meant business. She disconnected the line before either of the troublemakers could respond, then slumped back in her seat and gave a tired sigh. This was what she meant by her team having "unprofessional moments".

Seriously, though, would they ever be able to travel anywhere in this new world without something going horribly wrong?

And who was that red-haired girl in the knight armor earlier?

* * *

The first thing Alec Dalton heard as he slowly returned to consciousness was voices. They sounded murky and distant, as though they were underwater – a comparison made a tad more literal when he felt water suddenly splash over his face. He cracked his eyes open as much as he dared, barely able to make out the outline of his canteen hovering a few inches away, before the combination of dizziness and intrusive sunlight forced him to shut them again.

Holy crap, his head was pounding. What the hell even happened? One moment he was standing by the gate to Italica with the local girls, and the next he was lying on his back, suffering the worst headache he'd experienced since his grandpa first let him try moonshine.

The voices were still present, though they steadily grew a little clearer as his mental systems rebooted one at a time.

"…You didn't realize somebody might be in front of…"

While his battered brain couldn't keep up with the rest of the sentence, he instantly recognized the voice's owner. Tuka was apparently scolding an unseen citizen for their carelessness.

 _I got knocked out when the gate opened, didn't I?_

"…Would be more careful! Not checking makes you worse than a…!"

Wow, she was on a rant. Dalton felt sorry for whoever the elf was lecturing. He admittedly considered himself just as guilty for his role in the accident; it was technically his fault for standing so close to the door.

"…Was quite uncalled for." A calmer voice added in. Lelei, he realized after a second.

The young soldier felt a pair of small hands cup his cheeks, followed by the sound of light breathing. He opened his eyes again and saw Rory's pale face, hovering upside-down only an inch away from his own.

"Wakey-wakey, sleepyhead," the creepiest of the magical trio greeted in a singsong voice.

Dalton let out what was most certainly _not_ a girlish scream and instinctively sat up. That proved to be a bad move, however, since he ended up smacking his forehead against Rory's.

"OW!" The demigoddess reared back and clutched her head in both hands. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!"

"Argh, _fuuuuck_ …!" Dalton grabbed his own head and writhed around in agony, attempting to shield his face from any further harm. Despite Rory being entirely at fault for spooking him like that, the chivalrous man in him felt the need to apologize anyway. "I'm sorry, Rory… Ugh, you really startled me there…"

"You're lucky your squad is nearby, otherwise I'd make you pay for that in blood!" She hissed at him through clenched teeth.

Once the dancing Wretches with top hats and canes faded from his vision, the lone Gear became distinctly aware of someone tapping his shoulder. Dalton sat up and saw Tuka crouched at his side, offering him his beloved helmet.

"Thank you…" He graciously accepted the helmet and placed it back over his head where it belonged. Ahh, that felt so much better.

He did it just in time, too, since Reynolds sent him a transmission a few seconds later.

 _"_ _Private Dalton, come in! Private! Please come in! Dammit, Private, answer me!"_

"This is Dalton," he responded groggily. Did she really need to yell? "I'm a little banged up, but I'm alive."

The lieutenant breathed a sigh of relief over the other end. _"Oh, thank god! We were getting antsy over here. You were only out for a couple of minutes, but the rest of the squad was prepared to charge in and save you."_

"Nice to know they're warming up to me. I'll keep you posted on where we stand."

 _"_ _Copy that, Private. Reynolds out."_

He smacked the side of his helmet a few times after she ended the call to clear away the lingering drowsiness. As he did so, his ears picked up the sound of clanking metal footsteps drawing closer, signaling to the private that someone was approaching him.

Dalton looked up… and promptly felt a fresh wave of dizziness hit him.

He'd seen some ten out of tens before, both on Sera and the Special Region, though none of them held a candle to what he was witnessing now. The most beautiful girl he'd ever seen stood over his sitting form, gazing down at him with clear worry in her blood red eyes. She was dressed in a mix of normal clothing and knights' armor, including a blouse that showed off her-

 _Cleavage._

"Are you okay?" the stranger asked, bending down a bit.

 _Yes. Keep doing that. Show Alec the goods._

"I am now," he blurted without thinking. He thought he heard Rory snicker nearby.

Jeez, if his grandma were around to hear him say that, she would've beaten him with a broom. And was it just him, or did his armor feel really stuffy all of a sudden?

"Thank goodness…" The young woman sighed, sagging her shoulders in relief. She stood back up to her full height, which was probably a head shorter than him. It seemed like her concern hadn't vanished completely, though; if anything, she looked tense, like she was standing too close to a particularly deadly predator.

"It's my fault you were hit by the gate." She told him in an apologetic tone. "In my haste, I forgot to check if anyone was directly in front of it. Please forgive me for my rashness!"

 _You're way too gorgeous to be mad at, even if you did it on purpose._

Dalton waved her apology off without a second thought. "Eh, don't worry about it. Mistakes happen. It's all water under the bridge now." He took a moment to look around the courtyard, finally noticing the armed mob giving the two of them a wide berth. "So, uh… which one of you fine folks want to explain what's going on?"

To his surprise, the crowd turned as one to stare at the redhead. She grew flustered when she noticed everyone looking at her, darting her head from side to side in bewilderment.

"Wh-What? Me?!"

Another girl in very similar armor unexpectedly shoved herself between the private and the… what was she, a knight? A town guard? He didn't have time to dwell on the possibilities, since the brunette native was clearly angered for some reason.

"Impudent fools! This is an affront to the Third Imperial Princess, Piña Co Lada!" she shouted at the gathered civilians.

 _Piña Co Lada…? That's a pretty name._

"In that case, I'd like to offer my own apologies," Dalton cut in, bringing the two females' attention back to him. "I didn't realize I was talking with the-"

Alec's train of thought didn't just suddenly derail; it also crashed through an orphanage, plummeted off a cliff, then exploded like something out of a Michael Bay movie.

"WAIT, IMPERIAL PRINCESS?!"

He rapidly skittered backwards on all fours until he felt his back hit the gate. The Gear scrambled to his feet and reached for his Lancer; to his horror, however, his hand grasped nothing but empty air. A quick scan of the area revealed that Lelei had taken the time to relieve him of his weapons while he was unconscious, and had them piled next to her.

The private instead struck what he hoped was an intimidating fighting stance.

"D-Don't come any closer! I… I-I know kung fu!"

His pathetic excuse for a bluff actually worked, much to his amazement. The mob stepped back with unmistakable fear in their movements, as if they were afraid he was about to do something that would utterly annihilate them all.

The hot chick – no, Piña Co Lada – wait, no, the freakin' _princess of the country from another world that attacked Jacinto_ – held her hands up in a placating gesture, looking just as frightened as the townspeople.

"No, wait! I don't wish to fight you!" she pleaded desperately. "We can resolve this peacefully! Please, there's no need to get violent!"

Dalton wondered what his grandpa would say in this situation.

 _Assert your dominance, you nerdy little runt! Show her what a REAL man looks like! Then, when she's nice and vulnerable, grab her by the ass and fuck her right in the-!_

The Pendulum Wars and subsequent downfall of humanity had really taken their toll on the crazy old bastard. Okay, what would his grandma tell him?

 _Give her a chance, Alec. The poor girl must be going through a lot of stress right now, and she's clearly scared out of her mind. Take this opportunity to show her that you care._

The COG soldier slowly, tentatively, relaxed his stance.

"Okay… Okay, I'll trust you." Dalton said once he'd calmed down enough to speak without tripping over his words. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Umm… it's good that you don't want to fight. Real good. I, uh, don't actually know kung fu."

"I'm glad to hear that," the princess replied with a nod. He didn't know whether she meant his cooperation or lack of martial arts skills.

He nodded back, then cautiously moved away from the door, pausing by Lelei to collect his discarded weapons. Several people watched in fascination as he holstered his Snub and clipped his Lancer and Gnasher to his armor's magnetic locks.

Piña turned around and left in the direction of an open street, beckoning for Dalton and his acquaintances to follow her. "Come with me, please. There's much to talk about, and I'm afraid our time is short."

"You got it." He trotted after her with the girls in tow, and the crowd parted to let the odd group through.

Dalton couldn't stop himself from admiring her from behind as she walked. Enemy princess or not, she had a figure that would put every other girl her age to shame. Everything about her appearance was flawlessly perfect, from the way her armor hugged her body to her glistening ruby hair…

Wait…

 _By the Allfathers, I think I just found a red-haired knight commander…_

Gyules was going to shit bricks when he learned about this.

* * *

 **I imagine several people are squealing in joy right about now. Especially you, Glenox.**

 **Yep, Dalton and** **Piña** **are going to be the main pairing in this story. It's a very interesting idea if you think about it: he's a low-ranking soldier, hailing from a doomed planet torn asunder by war and cruelty. She's the princess of an empire from another world, who yearns for a chance to prove herself on the battlefield. It'll be a slow burn, since they have some differences both motivationally and personality-wise, but I've got plenty of planned content between them that'll make up for it.**

 **What else did we learn in this chapter? Well, Gyules is probably going to tone down his weebiness a bit, at least when he's around people of importance. I'll admit I kind of overdid it with him the last few chapters, but the comedic potential was just too tempting to ignore. He'll start getting serious by the time what I call the "Sera arc" begins.**

 **Also, Hutch has no concept of what fun is. Make of that what you will.**

 **Review answering time:**

 **coduss: Keep in mind that Prescott wouldn't have committed such atrocious acts if he felt there was any other way to ensure humanity's survival. I sympathize with him, in a way – he's willing to sentence himself to damnation, as long as it means saving his people.**

 **Guest & Lt. Frostdromeda: ;)**

 **Captain Titus Invictus: Probably not. The only way Marcus might appear in this story is if I decide to throw him in as a last-minute cameo, though I can't think of any reason to do that.**

 **Wacko12: I'm sorry, but how the heck did you miss him? He had a whole lunch scene with Gyules and Tuka. Go back and re-read the chapter.**

 **Next chapter will probably be shorter than usual. Pacing and all that, you know? Until then, remember to leave a review!**


	8. Terms of Service

**Nope, I was wrong. This chapter's even longer than the last.**

 **Oh and GEARS 5 GOT ANNOUNCED! HELL YEAH! I've already started making some speculations on what might happen, but I'd rather not share them in the author's notes, lest the reviews get clogged up with responses and other theories. If anyone wants to discuss it further, don't hesitate to PM me. (Same goes with anything that doesn't have to do with the story.)**

 **And yeah, I know, I've been gone for a while. It's just that writing diplomatic scenes bores me to tears, and while I'm aware they have to be done for the sake of plot progression, there are a hundred other things I could be doing that are far more interesting. It's a bad habit – sue me.**

 **Also, headreviewer mk2 gets a cookie.**

* * *

 **(Formal Mansion, Italica)**

Piña led the group to a lavish mansion in the heart of Italica, all the while briefing them on the state of affairs within the city. They were currently navigating a long hallway within the estate, with the princess taking the lead, followed by Private Dalton and lastly the local girls. The soldier drank in all the information she provided, memorizing as much as possible so the COG could archive it later.

"This fortress city, Italica, stands strategically at the intersection of the Tessaria and Appia highways, making it a major commercial hub." Piña explained to her guests. "For generations it's been ruled by the counts of Formal – Imperial nobility. But when the last count died suddenly, the three daughters he left behind began struggling for dominance."

"I've got a question," Dalton interrupted. "You just said 'Imperial nobility'. What sort of government does this land have, exactly?"

The princess was quick to fill him in. "Our government, along with our country, is known as the Saderan Empire. Ever since it was established six hundred years ago, it's been the major ruling power on the continent." She held a finger to her chin, adopting a thoughtful look. "This country _does_ have a name, although… it's been so long since anyone's referred to it as anything other than the Empire, nobody remembers what it is."

That didn't answer his question entirely, but he didn't press her to elaborate. If Dalton were in her place, he'd also be unwilling to answer more than needed. They were technically enemies, after all, and in the Coalition, sharing vital information with the enemy was immediate grounds for court-martialing… or worse.

Regardless, he'd still managed to glean a few clues from her answer. Sera had seen its fair share of empires over the years, all of them rising and falling usually in the span of a few centuries. With a history stretching back a whopping six hundred years, it was impressive that this Empire had retained total control of its territories for so long.

 _Almost_ total control, he corrected himself. They weren't getting their greedy hands anywhere near Jacinto again; not if Theta Squad and the rest of the COG army had anything to say about it.

The thought made him wonder how involved this princess was in the opening invasion.

"Getting back on track…" Piña continued, oblivious to his internal musings, "The eldest and middle sisters had already married into other families. They fought over who would be the guardian of the rightful heir; the youngest sister, Myui."

"It's always about having power, huh?" Dalton sighed.

That kind of conflict was very similar to how the Pendulum Wars began: two sides fighting over the greatest resource, tearing peace and unity apart for the sake of money or influence. He never understood why those in power always felt they needed to have more.

Lelei gazed up at him all of a sudden, fixating her wide blue eyes on the young Gear. He didn't miss this, turning to look down at the quiet sorceress.

"What's the matter, Lelei?"

She blinked, and it took her a few seconds to compose a response. "Nothing. I'm just… curious about something."

Well, considering the way she was staring at him, Dalton supposed that whatever piqued her interest had to do with him. He had no idea what it could possibly be, though. He didn't recall saying or doing anything overly interesting recently.

"Curious about what?" he ventured.

Lelei visibly hesitated, as if wondering whether answering was a good idea or not, before she reached a decision. "Well… I didn't want to bring this up until a better time was found, but… when did you learn to speak our language so fluently?"

The bombshell revelation caused the private to stop in his tracks. He was so shocked that he didn't even notice when Tuka bumped into his back with a startled yelp.

How… _how_ had he failed to realize this? Dalton had spent a good amount of his free time in between deployments brushing up on the Special Region language; while it wasn't too difficult to understand, he still had a hard time following the flow of actual conversations, and tended to keep his own inputs short and to the point as a result. Now, though? He could keep up with the princess and the other girls as easily as if they were speaking Tyran. He'd somehow managed to master Special Regionese (as the less creative Gears called it) in the span of about an hour.

There was only one reason he could think of that would explain why he was suddenly bilingual. He couldn't help it – he laughed out loud.

"I think we have the princess to blame for that!" he said between chuckles. "Something in my head must've gotten knocked loose when she smacked me in the face earlier. I never thought I'd thank someone for giving me a head injury, but… thank you!"

Piña didn't lose her pace, though she did turn her head to shoot the rifleman a befuddled look. In hindsight, Dalton supposed it did sound a bit weird to praise someone for hurting you. His little comment probably hadn't won him any points with her.

 _…_ _Why am I even bothering, anyway? It's not like I'll ever get anywhere with her._ Dalton chided himself. _It's just a stupid crush. Focus on what's important, soldier._

Even still… it couldn't hurt to at least try and befriend her. She was the only enemy so far who hadn't tried to skewer him on sight, something he was very grateful for. He hated it when humans fought each other, place of origin be damned – he's seen enough conflicts between the COG and the Stranded to know that the Locust were the only ones benefitting.

Hopefully this princess could be swayed to see reason. She seemed intelligent, and with her status as a royal, there was no doubt she was aware of the fate that befell the Empire's armies each time they attacked Alnus Hill. This could be a golden opportunity. This was his chance to end the war and make peace with the enemy!

Except he hadn't the faintest idea of how to actually do that. Why had Lieutenant Reynolds chosen him to be the representative, again? The military taught him how to take cover and shoot a gun, not engage in diplomacy. Either she was a poor judge of character, or she saw some kind of special quality in the private that he himself didn't.

Then again, there was no way Reynolds could've predicted that the Imperial Princess would be in Italica.

He mentally groaned when he imagined how Theta Squad would likely react when they saw her, especially Gyules and Weaver. Those two in particular would be downright unbearable.

"Not long after the fight for custody began, the Empire sent the expeditionary force into the other world." Piña's voice provided a welcome relief from the uncertain direction his thoughts were headed towards. "The head of every family was expected to lead their troops into battle there. None returned."

Dalton had to bite his tongue to keep from saying "good riddance". Expeditionary force, his ass. Those foreigners came to Jacinto expecting a war, and they sure as hell got one.

He caught Rory smirking at him in his peripherals. Had she picked up on how much the princess' words bothered him? Did it amuse her? With the Apostle, it was never easy to tell.

"As a result, the security situation in Italica deteriorated quickly, to the point where even defending the city is proving difficult now." The group finally reached the end of the hallway – and _damn_ was that a long hallway – and Piña stopped in front of a plain wooden door on the right side, placing her hand on the knob. She fixed her red eyes on Alec. "Beyond this door lies the current ruler of Italica and countess of Formal, Myui."

She opened it, leading them inside a spacious room with oddly sparse furnishings. The most notable items were two large chairs resembling small thrones placed at the back of the room.

Dalton blinked in surprise when he saw who was sitting on one of the chairs.

"Uhh… There's a child here," he said slowly.

Indeed, the sole occupant of the room was a little girl who looked to be even younger than Rory. Her long, honey-colored hair was held in place by a small ornament, exposing her aqua blue eyes, which stared at the odd collection of visitors in unabated awe. A layered pink dress composed the majority of her clothing.

"Indeed. I believe the countess turns eleven this year." Piña informed him.

Dalton found his posture softening slightly at the revelation. Well… crap. If this kid really was a countess, that meant she held political influence, which in turn meant whatever party was sieging Italica would likely want to capture or kill her. Combined with the princess' presence, the town's economic importance, as well as its crumbling defenses, it was easy to see why Italica was a tempting target for anyone who wanted to disrupt the balance of power within the Empire.

Like the COG, for example.

He forcefully pushed those thoughts aside. No. The rational side of him, the part that was a soldier, told him he was getting distracted from his goal. By all rights, he probably should've placed Piña under military arrest and dragged her back to Alnus Station, cooperation or no. It wasn't like anyone in the town had the firepower to stop him.

On the other hand, the more emotional part of him desired to protect Myui from whatever was threatening her safety. Now that he knew a child was involved in this mess, he couldn't bring himself to just abandon her; no more than he could abandon Isabel or the children from Koda Village. He shuddered to think what would happen if someone malicious got their hands on her.

Also, he kind of didn't want Piña to hate him for arresting her. There was a professional reason for thinking that, he was certain. He just didn't know what it was yet.

"While she's the head of the family, it's too much to ask her to lead an army." Damn, he needed to stop spacing out like that when Piña talked. He might end up missing important details. The princess walked over to stand beside the young countess, resting one hand on her shoulder. "As such, I'm taking command in her stead."

"I see," Dalton replied with a stiff nod.

He really didn't. All of this was far above his pay grade – or, well, it would've been if he actually got paid.

"Are you here to help us?" Myui asked in a tiny voice.

"I… I want to, but…" Dalton faced the floor and sighed heavily. What the hell was he supposed to do? This was a problem better left to Reynolds, or maybe Bare, or… anyone but him, really.

Furthermore, whatever answer he gave would ultimately be meaningless. He wasn't the one in charge of Theta Squad. While he considered himself to at least be an asset to the team, he also knew this wasn't something he could handle on his own.

He needed help.

Dalton nodded to himself, then looked back up to Piña and Myui. When he spoke again, his voice carried a rare tone of professionalism and confidence.

"While I'd like to offer you both assistance, I'm afraid I'm not the one to make that call. What we need to do is bring my commanding officer here. After that, we'll discuss our options."

* * *

 **(Serano Ocean, Sera)**

Dusk was falling on the ocean between Tyrus' mainland and the island of Azura. The setting sun painted the evening sky a soothing shade of orange, as well as reflecting brilliantly off the water's surface. It was a pleasantly warm night on Sera, and probably one of the last in the season, considering that fall was just around the corner.

While there was no land to be seen in any direction, that wasn't a concern for the lone King Raven flying at a steady pace; its rotors the only sound that could be heard for miles in the windless expanse of sea. This chopper, unlike many of its kind, was painted completely jet black – a color scheme matching the armor of its occupants, who were thought long dead by their own brothers and sisters.

They were martyrs, respected and feared both in life and in their somewhat exaggerated deaths. They were ghosts, woken from their slumber to seek vengeance on the ones responsible for disturbing the natural order of things. And they were _very_ skilled at silencing their targets.

Revenant Squad was a fitting name for the team of Onyx Guards headed to Jacinto, Warrant Officer Nikolas Veliska mused. Revenants, by definition, were spirits revived from death to haunt the living – which was exactly what the team was assigned to do in a similar sense.

Veliska himself was Gorasni by birth, which was rare by itself, since Gorasnaya was sacked by the Locust early on in the war. Adding in his fierce dedication to the COG and status as an Onyx Guard, he really was cut from a different cloth than most others of his ethnicity. If any UIR holdouts still existed, and knew of him, it was highly plausible they would place a bounty on his head for aiding the enemy.

He didn't care. The Indie remnants hadn't done anything during the Locust War except hide and die like cowards. At least the COG actually tried to fight back properly, even if he didn't morally agree with some of their methods.

The sharp scraping of metal against osmium brought Veliska's attention to a short woman with black hair in a bun sitting to his left. Lance Corporal Mali Feng paused to smile cheekily at him, sheathing the machete she'd been sharpening against her armor.

"What's the matter, sah? I interrupt you from la-la land?" she giggled, her thick Pesan accent audible over the Raven's rotor blades.

"How many times have I told you not to do that, Feng? You'll damage your armor!" Veliska scolded. "I doubt we can find replacement parts in Jacinto as easily as we can in Azura. Fucking hell, what if your cuirass falls apart when we reach the Special Region? What then?" He glared at her for emphasis, which she dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"Ah, you worry too much, sah. Armor not everything, you know. Most Pesanga actually prefer to go without armor, yah?" She partially unsheathed the machete, its blade glinting in the amber light. Her smile grew feral. "Means enemy can't hear us coming when we cut their throats!"

There was a good reason why Feng was kept away from the scientists and their families back on the island – half the things she said scared them shitless. Captain Dury had gotten so many written complaints about her behavior that he'd placed her on permanent guard by the docks, which saw little if any activity on a daily basis. Why such a bloodthirsty woman was approved to go on a covert operation in another world, the Warrant Officer didn't quite know. Perhaps the good Captain just wanted her out of his hair for a while.

He turned to look over the other two Onyx Guards across from him and Feng, settling his attention on a dark-skinned man with a shaved head. The man was currently entertaining himself by pantomiming playing a drum set, humming along with whatever song was playing in his black earbuds. His eyes were closed, meaning he didn't notice his superior's disapproving scowl.

"St. John!" Veliska barked. "I don't mind you listening to music, but for God's sake, could you turn down the fucking volume?! That garbage is louder than a damn _Booshka_!"

Corporal Tyson St. John opened his eyes and removed the earbuds. "Sorry, Warrant Officer. Just hard to hear the lyrics when there's helicopter rotors grindin' right above your head, you catch me?"

He paused, then added, "And respectfully, sir, my tunes ain't garbage. This music is designed to speak to your soul! It's a reminder that humanity can and will continue to make great works of art."

"It's rap. It's about fucking bitches and taking names." The fourth and final member of the team interjected, not taking his eyes off the drawing in his sketchbook he was busy with. "I don't see what's so artistic about it."

Everything about Sergeant Craig Jerge's physical appearance was hidden from view behind his armor and helmet. He was the only member of Revenant Team to wear one; even Veliska forewent a helmet, preferring to let his salt-and-pepper hair breathe. The team leader admittedly knew very little about Jerge, save for his affinity for drawing and a reported case of severe pyrophobia.

St. John feigned offence and gave the other man a light punch on the arm. "Whooo, that's a big claim you're makin' there, Jerge! Also totally incorrect. Not all rap is about prancin' around braggin' about how you popped a cap in some sorry motherfucker's ass." He grinned proudly and placed a hand over his chest plate. "Me, I'm a man of _taste_."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say." Jerge grunted in reply, still more focused on his sketchbook than the topic at hand.

Feng, her curiosity getting the better of her, stood up and peered over the top of the book.

"Whatchu drawing, Sarge? Looks like slutty lady with pointy ears."

"It's an elf," Jerge said flatly. "I heard they exist in this new world we're going to. This is what I imagine they probably look like."

"Hmph. Still looks like whore, but you a good artist." Feng nodded in approval and sat back down.

"Still can't believe a gate to another world showed up out of nowhere in Jacinto," St. John sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. He pocketed his earbuds, apparently having lost interest in going back to his music. "And to a fuckin' fantasy world of all places? Man, and I thought the Locust were the most unexplainable shit we'd ever see. Why the hell are we even goin' over there, anyway? Our boys in trouble or somethin'?"

Veliska allowed himself a small chuckle. "Quite the opposite, Corporal. You'll find out more when we reach Jacinto," he said in response to the man's questioning look. He loudly cleared his throat, bringing the rest of Revenant's attention to him. "The thing is, we're not being deployed to the Special Region immediately. Our official assignment is to infiltrate the enemy forces' capital city and sow as much disarray as possible. Espionage, propaganda to surrender… maybe even a missing person or two."

He sent Feng a quick glance at the last part. The Pesang native simply batted her eyelashes at him in return.

"Problem is, we don't know where it is yet." He continued once the uncomfortable feeling in his gut settled down. "So in the meantime, we're going to be doing a little homework. The Chairman has given us a blank check, so to speak. We are to acquire as much media related to fantasy worlds as possible so we have an idea of what to expect when we do cross over."

All three Onyx Guards responded at the same time.

"Aw, man! We gotta do _homework_ before we go?!" St. John groused.

"Um, sir… is it also true there's a fire-breathing dragon on the other side of the gate?" Jerge asked hesitantly.

"How do we explain Onyx Guards just showing up in Jacinto, sah? We supposed to be wiped out!" Feng added.

"Quiet, all of you!" Veliska hollered. "St. John, quit being a whiner! I'm ordering you to watch movies and read fantasy novels, not write a goddamn essay! Jerge, I can safely tell you there _is_ a dragon, but the COG drove it away some time ago and it hasn't been seen since. Feng, if anyone asks, stick to the cover story: We're an independent deep recon unit that's been out of contact with Jacinto until recently. If they ask for details, either make something up or tell them to fuck off, I don't care which. Everyone got that? I don't want to repeat myself!"

He received three separate nods of confirmation.

"Good. Then let's go over possible tactics for our operation. We'll make the enemy's leadership wish they'd never crawled into this shithole of a world…"

* * *

 **(Formal Mansion, Italica)**

Piña Co Lada, Third Princess of the Saderan Empire, was having tea with Blue Golems.

No matter how many times she repeated those words in her head, it didn't make them any less surreal. She was seated on a plush couch, with Hamilton to her right and Countess Myui on an adjacent chair to her left. Directly across from her, some sitting on a different couch while others chose to stand, were no less than seven of the fabled Golems of Alnus Hill.

She'd finally found them – or more accurately, they'd stumbled across her. They were meeting at last; two radically different military units from two different worlds, now seated together drinking tea.

Roughly an hour had passed since the young Golem she'd injured earlier, whom Piña now knew was named "Pry-vit Dalton" (and what a strange name that was), suggested they meet with his squad commander to discuss Italica's bandit problem. She'd escorted him back to the South Gate personally, picking up Hamilton along the way for comfort's sake. From there it was a simple matter of opening the gate and letting Dalton do the talking.

The princess was expecting him to bring one, maybe two of his comrades into the city with him. What he brought instead was the full team. Evidently they believed in safety in numbers, which was something Piña could see the logic behind. They were technically in hostile territory, after all.

She tried not to shudder at the memory of those huge iron chariots they commandeered lumbering through the city streets while she walked with Dalton back towards the mansion. He'd claimed they were called Packhorses, though she saw no resemblance to a knight's trusted steed – only cold metal and more unknown technology.

Her eyes wandered over each of the foreign soldiers as she took a sip of her tea. While they all wore similar armor, and most of them wore helmets, she could still pick out each one individually. They were apparently allowed a degree of customization to their kits, something the Imperial army and its vassals strongly discouraged.

Adding to that, each of them was taller and broader in stature than the average Imperial soldier. Even the two women in their group rivaled Norma in size.

She took a moment to examine them individually. Dalton was seated next to a woman with blond hair, who Piña assumed was their leader, judging from her central position among the group and the air of authority she gave off. A small part of her was privately pleased to learn that even the Blue Golems saw value in female soldiers.

Stood behind Dalton was a man in striking white armor. Interesting. She hadn't heard anything about White Golems during her investigation. She chalked him up as some kind of doctor, since he'd made a minor fuss over Dalton's head injury earlier, and had refused to relax until he was sure the young man was okay.

A second woman with tan skin occupied the last free spot on the couch, flanked by a guy in a strange green hat. Another man, who looked nearly identical to Dalton with the exception of a different helmet, stood a little off to the left. Curiously, Piña saw his head continuously dart between her and Dalton, as if there was some connection between them that only he was aware of. The princess didn't know what to make of that, so instead she moved on to their final member.

The biggest man she'd ever seen was off to the right, standing at rigid attention with his arms crossed. Oddly enough, Rory Mercury and her presumed friends had flocked to him the moment he rode into Italica, completely abandoning Dalton in favor of the larger soldier. Definitely a curiosity, and something she'd have to look into later if an opportunity presented itself.

Everything about their appearance was so… foreign. With their face-concealing helmets and the assortment of bizarre tools strapped to their heavy armor, it was clear to the princess how they'd earned their reputation as monsters from another world. They were drastically different than any other humans she'd met before, that was for certain.

As she thought of how to begin their discussion, Piña noticed how none of the Golems had touched their tea so far. Their leader, in fact, was eyeing the steaming cup in front of her with a suspicious glare, like she suspected the beverage was laced with poison.

Piña held in an annoyed sigh. She'd done nothing to the damn thing. To prove her point, she first refilled her own cup from the teapot, took a long sip, then filled a fresh cup immediately afterward and offered it to the other woman. She tentatively accepted it, and after giving it a taste, turned and nodded to her team to let them know it was safe to drink.

She almost didn't catch Hamilton's barely audible comment. "Paranoid bunch…"

The older girl shot her subordinate a brief, reprimanding look, then focused her attention back to the Blue Golems. Time to get down to business.

"I'll try to keep this brief," she began, waiting for the Lindonite mage to translate before continuing. "Italica is currently under siege by deserters from the united armies who turned to banditry. We've estimated there are about six hundred of them in total. We don't have the manpower or skill needed to hold them off, which places us in an understandably dire situation."

One of them, the man in the hat, smirked unpleasantly and said something in his native tongue, earning him a glare from his leader and what must've been scolding from the second woman. Piña looked to the mage for interpretation.

"He said, 'You reap what you sow, you knightly rejects'." The blue-haired girl replied.

Piña openly gawked at the sheer _rudeness_ of the statement. She… She was the Imperial Princess! Nobody in their right mind had _ever_ dared to speak of her and her Order with such petty contempt!

"Please pardon my teammate; he's always like that." The blond-haired woman spoke up. "As for your summary of recent events, I'm getting the sense you want to enlist our aid."

"So you'll help us?" The princess dared to let a bit of hope seep into her voice, her shock at the earlier insult evaporating. Was she hearing this correctly? Were these unstoppable soldiers offering to help save Italica?

The blond's eyes turned icy. "I never said that."

Piña felt her spirits plummet.

"Don't get me wrong – this city's destruction would definitely inconvenience us. After all…" She motioned to the elf, who produced two large sacks from seemingly nowhere and placed them on the table. The Blue Golems' leader opened one and produced what both knights recognized was a wyvern scale, turning it this way and that so the room's light reflected off its smooth surface. "Where else are we going to sell these?"

"Wyvern scales?" Hamilton openly gaped. "Wh-Where did you get so many?!"

The large man suddenly cut into the conversation. "We scavenged them from the field around Alnus Hill. You figure out where they came from."

"You tried to kill us, and instead you made us rich. The irony is palpable," the golem in white drawled.

The blond woman held up a hand to silence them, then placed the scale back in the bag and re-fastened the string. Her gaze remained unnervingly frigid. "We have refugees under our care who would greatly appreciate the money. However," and at this she leaned forward, "it's hardly necessary. They'd make do just fine without it."

The princess' brow furrowed. "Refugees?"

"From Koda Village. We saved them from the Fire Dragon." The woman smirked and leaned back at Piña and Hamilton's thunderstruck expressions. "I suppose you've heard about that?"

 _These_ were the ones who defeated the Fire Dragon?! The same group that crippled it for life? Her mind flashed back to her stay at Lorn Village, and something the waitress at the tavern said about the mysterious mercenaries in blue:

 _"_ _There were seven of them in total; five men and two women."_

She double-checked their numbers. Two of them she could clearly identify as women, and the others all had masculine builds.

The waitress had also spoken about one of them using a huge iron catalyst during the battle. She couldn't immediately identify it in their ranks, but then again, they probably saw no need to bring it to what was supposed to be a peaceful meeting.

Or perhaps they didn't have it anymore? There were rumors of magics so powerful that specially crafted catalysts were needed to properly channel them; the downside was that said catalysts would invariably be destroyed after a single spell was cast. Now that Piña thought about it some more, that was likely how they'd beaten the dragon. She wouldn't put it past them to have that kind of destructive power in their arsenal.

She gulped. Oh. Oh dear.

She suddenly had a much clearer idea of who she was dealing with.

Her next words were picked out very carefully. "I… I was made aware of your noble deeds, and I thank you for that. The Fire Dragon is a beast I'm sure we can all agree would be better off dead." She took a shuddering breath, then continued, "I believe we've gotten off-topic, however. You were saying something about how the fall of Italica wouldn't be in your best interests?"

Even though the squad leader made it clear they didn't really need the money, it was still a starting ground for negotiations. She hadn't denied they weren't still interested in selling the scales.

Plus, well, they were able to injure an ancient dragon. Now that Piña had a better idea of what these soldiers were capable of, she found herself more willing to accept whatever terms they demanded in exchange for their support; within reason, of course. Securing their help could potentially tip the upcoming battle in the Empire's favor.

The blond was quiet, deep in visible thought. Piña tried not to fidget when the silence extended over a minute.

Finally, she spoke.

"I'll be honest with you, _Princess_." The near-hiss in her tone made the redhead flinch. "This isn't our fight. This city, as well as its inhabitants – _especially_ you and your knights – are technically our enemies. We could leave you all to die, right here, right now, and it wouldn't negatively affect us at all. In fact, the death of an enemy commander is often considered a huge victory during wartime, am I wrong?"

"Lieutenant Reynolds!" Dalton turned to stare at his commanding officer in shock. Piña felt her stomach drop to her ankles. Myui, who had remained silent throughout the meeting, grew several shades paler.

Even a few of the other Blue Golems seemed uncomfortable, slightly fidgeting in place. The only one who didn't seem to notice the growing tension was Emroy's little psychopath. Rory looked amused, actually.

"Save it, Dalton." The woman – Reynolds? – ordered harshly. Her blue eyes narrowed at the sweating royal while she paused to take a drink of her tea. "Oh, and don't think I've forgotten that your country put my people through hell this past month. Your army attacked us. You killed innocent civilians. You honestly thought you could storm our world and take it over." Her armored hand tightened around the teacup's handle, making it creak in protest. "Do you have _any_ clue what our world is like? Did you not take into account the _horrors_ you'd encounter while planning the invasion, either in victory or defeat?"

"I had nothing to do with that!" Piña cried.

She was telling the truth! Her father coordinated everything! However, since he'd never had any real military experience in his life, his tactical approach to the campaign had nearly caused the princess to tear her hair out in frustration. He didn't employ the use of battlemages! He didn't send scouts through the gate to assess the enemy's strength! When she'd suggested these things to him, he'd merely brushed her off and told her, word for word, that he was the Emperor and that he didn't need his honor guard daughter telling him what to do.

The whole invasion was an organized mess. She knew deep down that it was destined to fail from the start, especially since the Imperial Army was fighting in a totally different world where their usual strategies might not have worked, but she'd been powerless to prevent it. The events that transpired after the push to conquer the Blue Golems' homeworld were afterwards kept a secret from her, until Diabo mentioned off-handedly that he overheard news about a united army being defeated by an unknown foe at Alnus Hill.

Her desire to prove her father wrong didn't stop at showing him the Rose Knights weren't just honor guards. She'd also been hoping that by leading her forces into battle and succeeding, he would come to see the same tactical genius in her that Grey did, and would consult with her before major battles to avoid making any more amateur mistakes.

And now this Reynolds woman was accusing her of aiding her father in his suicidal schemes. Between this increasingly hostile meeting with the Blue Golems, the fact that they were only enemies because of the Emperor's ambitions, and the current situation in Italica, Piña's stress level was through the roof.

"I had nothing to do with it…" she repeated in a much softer tone. The young royal felt her eyes tearing up but didn't pay it any mind. She was too desperate to care. "Please… you have to believe me. I never wanted this war… I never wanted things to get so out of control…"

Hamilton wordlessly handed her a handkerchief. She accepted it without acknowledgement, dabbing away the wetness on her cheeks. She felt so helpless…

"Princess…?"

The redhead looked to who had spoken. Dalton's helmet was expressionless as ever, though she could sense the deep concern for her in his muffled voice.

At least one of them cared…

"I… I'm sorry," she eventually said. "Please forgive me for losing my composure like that. I only want to protect my people, you understand. However, given the circumstances, I don't believe I can do that without help…"

"Say no more." Reynolds interrupted. She set down her teacup and rose to her feet. "Princess… when I became a Gear, I swore an oath to remain vigilant and unyielding in my pursuit of the Coalition of Ordered Governments' enemies. Facts are, we're enemies… but that can change."

Piña waited with bated breath for her to continue. What was she proposing?

"We'll help you," the foreign woman stated. "As soldiers, our duty also binds us to protect those who can't protect themselves. We'll help you for the sake of the townspeople. In return, I want one thing."

The tone of Piña's reply was split between overwhelming relief and fear. "What is it? If it's in my power, I'll grant you anything you wish!"

Money? No, Reynolds already said they didn't need it. Weapons and armor? Probably not, since they already wore armor, and she didn't see a single sword among their number. Slaves? She didn't see an issue in letting them keep any bandits they captured, so that was probably it.

Reynolds didn't answer immediately. Her cool stare bore into Piña's red eyes.

"Peace."

* * *

 **(South Gate, One Hour Later)**

Lieutenant Courtney Reynolds sat on the hood of her faithful Packhorse, absentmindedly loading bullets one at a time into rifle magazines as she dwelled on Theta Squad's newest dilemma.

The Gears and their vehicles were escorted back the way they came after the meeting was finished. Once they were back at the city's entrance, Bare had taken Dalton, Gyules, and the local girls (whom Weaver had snidely begun referring to as the "jailbait trio") outside the gate with the purpose of teaching the group how to set up proximity grenade traps. It had been a useful and effective tactic during the Battle of Alnus Hill, inflicting severe casualties on the clueless enemy forces, so Reynolds gave them permission to set out and lay down some nasty surprises along the lesser-defended spots of the south wall.

Weaver and O'Nellis patrolled the ramparts above, being able to spot any signs of an enemy approach long before the others could. Hutch was leaning against the other Packhorse, the one with the turret, which was strategically placed behind a wooden barricade Italica's militia had left behind. The spot gave whoever was operating the turret a great view of both the front gate and the two flights of stairs that led up to the ramparts, which might come in handy if the bandits managed to scale the wall and tried to descend from the sides.

While the normally passive medic possessed standard COG Army training, his Boltok pistol would be of very limited use against the horde of bandits. As such, he was under orders to man the turret when the fighting began. He hadn't objected.

Nobody on the team had pointed out yet that they were the only ones guarding the plaza.

Reynolds inserted the last bullet into the mag and slapped it securely into her Retro Lancer, then clicked on the safety. Her thoughts stewed at the reason she and her squad were being left at the south side by themselves.

 _That bitch is sending us to die._

It had taken all of Reynolds' self-control not to throttle that princess, scream at her for her government's idiocy and for throwing Sera's future into disarray, and generally use her as a scapegoat so the lieutenant could vent all her pent-up anger. She'd let some of her frustrations slip during the meeting, but still succeeded in striking a deal: Theta Squad would lend their assistance in defeating the bandits and saving Italica, and in return, the princess would declare the town a neutral zone where both sides could begin working to end the Gate War. Unfortunately, the royal admitted she didn't have the power to call a total ceasefire – that was something only her father, the Emperor (correction: highest-value target) could declare.

Reynolds silently mouthed what Private Dalton claimed was the princess' name. She'd thought he was making an ill-timed joke when he'd told her, but to her bafflement, he seemed to have been telling the truth.

Piña Co Lada. Either her parents didn't love her very much, or the people in this world loved their alcohol enough to name their children after it. Could've been both.

There were a hundred other things she could've been worrying about right now, but she needed to prioritize. Despite agreeing to help save Italica, even with their superior weapons and the assistance of the local girls, the odds of victory weren't looking good. Seven Gears with moderately heavy firepower weren't going to turn the tide against six hundred marauders. Reynolds knew this as a fact; she'd had Hutch run the math.

There was only one person who could help them now.

 _"_ _Ah, Rey-Rey, perfect timing! I was actually just about to call you!"_ Captain Mayweather greeted in his typical jovial manner through her radio.

"Oh?" Reynolds raised an eyebrow, even though her uncle couldn't see it. "What about?"

His reply sounded more excited than she'd ever heard. " _We've caught a huge break_ _today, Rey-Rey. I had a friendly chat with Mr. Altestan earlier this afternoon. Turns out the man's well-traveled, and he finally agreed to share everything he knows about this world's government!"_

"Really? That's great news, uncle!"

Even though Piña's existence already cemented the idea that the COG was up against an absolute monarchy, the officer hadn't pushed her luck in the negotiations by politely demanding a full explanation on the ins and outs of Special Region politics. She'd do that after the upcoming battle; they were running on a time limit after all. Save Italica first, interrogate princess later.

 _"_ _Isn't it? All he asked in exchange is that I let it slip to the lady Gears at base that he's single!"_

Reynolds gave the radio a deadpan frown. The captain must've sensed her expression, since he hastily amended his statement a moment later.

 _"Oh, give me a break! It's not like I'm giving him clearance to flirt with all our female personnel!_ _"_ he said. _"I also made sure to tell him you're not interested. You might want to give Corporal O'Nellis a heads-up, though... just in case she's into wizards or something."_

Right, because that would go over well. Weaver would assuredly kill Cato if he saw the old sage putting the moves on his spotter. It wouldn't be the first time he'd murdered someone for O'Nellis' sake, she recalled.

 _"_ _Unfortunately…"_ Mayweather's voice turned gravely serious. _"Everything he told me suggests we're in a way deeper mess than we'd anticipated. This isn't just a single rogue nation we're dealing with, Courtney – we're at war with a full-fledged empire!"_

"I already know that, uncle. My squad and I have confirmed the existence of a royal family as the head of government, led by an Emperor."

 _"_ _Who told you that? One of Sergeant Bare's little trio?"_ He paused, and she heard a sound over the other end that might've been him drinking something.

"The Imperial Princess, sir. She's here in Italica."

Mayweather had definitely been drinking something, since she heard him spit-take at the revelation. She stayed quiet while he audibly hacked and coughed for a few seconds.

 _"_ _What the flying fuck?!"_ he eloquently exclaimed once he could talk again. _"You mean one of their leaders is with you? In the same city? Tell me everything, Lieutenant!"_

She spent the next several minutes summarizing everything that happened over the course of the day: Italica's perilous state, sending Dalton to investigate, the whole door incident, the meeting with the princess, and the deal that was struck between the two parties. Mayweather hung onto every word, occasionally stopping her to ask for clarification, but otherwise remained silent for the duration of her report.

"…And that's the situation we're in now," Reynolds eventually finished. "The princess has been cooperative so far, but I don't think she's expecting my team and I to survive past tonight. I'd like to request reinforcements ASAP."

 _"_ _Done."_ The old captain immediately answered. _"I have something in mind I think will convince this princess and her crew that fighting us isn't worth it. Think you can manage until nightfall?"_

"Shouldn't be a problem. We have Rory on our side," she reminded him.

He snickered. _"So true. No matter what happens though, I want that princess kept alive, you hear? If shit goes south and you have to pull a retreat, I want her right next to you. This is an opportunity we can't afford to lose no matter what."_

"I understand, Captain. Wish us luck tonight."

Reynolds clicked the radio off, then hummed a song her mother used to sing to her while she began loading up her Gnasher.

She idly wondered what sort of reinforcements Captain Mayweather would send. An infantry battalion? Centaur tanks? Who the hell knew. Knowing him, though, whatever he sent would definitely make for a hell of a show.

* * *

 **(South Gate Perimeter)**

"DUDE! You actually did it!" Private Gyules grabbed a very flabbergasted Dalton and embraced him in a bro-hug. "YOU FOUND YOUR WAIFU!"

"Would you fucking keep it down?" the other rookie hissed, shoving his weird friend away and shooting a nervous look in Bare's direction. Thankfully, the Master Sergeant either somehow hadn't heard Gyules' exclamation, or had simply grown used to the otaku's antics. The older man didn't even spare them a glance as he listened to Lelei talk about something or another.

Dalton was mentally prepared for this moment ever since Theta Squad first laid eyes on Princess Piña. Gyules had remained conspicuously silent after seeing her, though that hadn't stopped him from practically orbiting around Alec, waiting until the coast was clear so he could let his fountain of excitement out all at once.

To the pyro's credit, at least he'd bothered to wait until Bare was distracted and they had a chance to talk alone. The six of them were finished setting up the proximity traps and had decided to take a short rest before heading back to the city proper. Except that "rest" for Rudy apparently translated to "bug Alec about his love life".

"Sorry. You just have no idea how happy this makes me, man!" Gyules continued, listening to his friend and lowering his voice a bit. "Just yesterday you were telling me your ideal woman was a red-haired knight commander, and lo and behold! I mean, what are the freaking chances, right?! And she's hot! Lie to my face and tell me you're not happy!"

"Rudy…" Dalton sighed. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong. Yeah, he'd made something up out of the blue when he told Rudy what kind of woman he liked, but the truth was that he really _was_ attracted to Piña in some form. She tried to act strong-willed and indifferent, but her momentary breakdown during the meeting gave Dalton a glimpse of something else: a loyal, caring girl who genuinely didn't want the conflict between their worlds to continue.

They were more similar than she probably realized. Like him, the princess was a soldier caught up over her head in a time of crisis. Also, based on how clean her armor was, she was likely inexperienced in a major fight; same as him. And perhaps most importantly, they both regretted how the first contact between their countries was wrought with violence.

They could've been a match made in heaven. However…

"It wouldn't work out."

"Huh? What do you mean?" The younger soldier cocked his head in confusion.

"I'm not going after her," Dalton said firmly, struggling not to make his feelings at the decision obvious.

Unlike him, though, Gyules made no effort to hide his own disappointment. "Seriously? But… why?"

"Besides the fact she's so far out of my league that I probably don't even register as a blip on her list of suitors?" Dalton sighed again and shook his head. "She's a princess, dude. And I'm…"

 _Awkward. Geeky. A total nobody. Just another Gear in the machine._

"…Enlisted?" Gyules suggested.

Alec nodded sullenly. "That's one of the reasons, yeah."

He could try all he wanted to be her friend, but realistically speaking, there was no way Piña could ever have an interest in him romantically. Even if she did, and he somehow wasn't tried and executed for having an affair with an enemy commander, her status as a princess meant he'd likely get swept up in the one thing he dreaded most: politics. The private had _zero_ idea how to run a country, modern or medieval. Chairman Prescott's monumental burdens further reduced his desire to ever get involved with political jargon.

Piña still had him captivated, however - for better or worse. He _craved_ the chance to get to know her better. Tuka and Lelei were cool, but they clearly preferred Bare over him, which was fine. And while Rory had awesome superpowers, she legitimately frightened him, plus she was only a child. Something about Piña was different. Sure, she was an ordinary human with (supposedly) no crazy magical abilities, though Dalton couldn't honestly say he'd met anyone quite like her before.

"It just wouldn't work..." He repeated quietly.

The two Gears were silent afterwards, Dalton consumed by his insecurities, and Gyules probably thinking of something to say to disprove his claim. The only sound in the immediate area came from Lelei, who seemed to be asking Bare what a ration bar was.

"Alec…" It was Rudy's turn to sigh. He pressed his palm to his helmet, muttered something, then looked back at his squadmate. "Do you know how we won both the first and second battles at Alnus Hill?"

Dalton eyed his best friend hesitantly. Where was _this_ coming from?

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked.

"Just answer the question, bro."

The rifleman mulled over the possibilities. If Gyules was looking for one specific answer, he didn't know what it was. There were a lot of things that contributed to the COG's victory – guns, tanks, mobile assault platforms, better communications, and modern military tactics, to name a few off the top of his head.

"We have better equipment?" the private guessed with a halfhearted shrug.

"Well, yeah, mostly," Gyules admitted, "but the main reason we always won is that we never gave the enemy a proper chance to fight back."

Dalton still didn't see where this was going. "So?"

"Think about it, dude. There were four thousand of us, and God knows how many hundreds of thousands of them. If all we had was swords and shields, we would've gotten slaughtered faster than every grub in the Outer Hollows. So what did we do?"

"…Even the odds with guns?"

Gyules shook his head. "Wrong. We pointed our guns at the odds and told them to go fuck themselves!" He hefted his Scorcher for emphasis. The barbaric weapon's fuel tank gleamed in the early evening sunlight. "We didn't just even the odds; we made them so damn irrelevant that the only possible outcome for us was victory. We won because we never made it a fair fight! Do you see what I'm getting at?"

He didn't.

"I do." Dalton nodded.

Gyules tilted his head in a way that said he didn't believe him.

"You know, Alec, Randy once told me that there are rules in war, just like there are rules in society. Let's assume the Locust don't count here, since I'm not even sure if they _have_ a civilized society." He stopped to sigh wistfully, probably thinking about his brother again. The young pyro soon collected himself and resumed his lecture. "Anyway, our world has rules for warfare. I'm sure this one does, too. But as soon as we stepped through that gate, and fired the first shot, we must've broken every one of them for the Imperial Army. Case in point: sometimes, you just gotta fuck the rules."

"So you're saying I should try to go after Piña, even if it might get me in trouble?"

"Exactly!" Gyules happily declared. Dalton didn't have a counter to the otaku's perfectly fallible logic. "When the gate opened, everything we thought we knew about spacetime flew straight out the window. Science got fucked, man. It got fucked hard. I sort of stopped giving a shit about the how's and why's after a while and just decided to go with the flow. You should, too! And honestly, if this all works out and we make peace, who would give a damn about you starting a relationship with the princess?"

"Um…" Dalton racked his brain for a name. "Captain Mayweather?"

"Mayweather's chill, I'm sure he'd turn a blind eye."

"Lieutenant Reynolds?"

"Trickier, but you've never given her a reason to doubt your loyalty, so she'll probably come around."

"…Sergeant Weaver?"

Gyules stared at him.

"Okay, fine, I see your point," Dalton conceded, sighing in resignation. There were still holes in his fellow Gear's argument, but he decided he would give it a shot with Piña, just to humor Rudy if nothing else. "If I get court-martialed, though, I'm dragging you down with me."

"Deal." Gyules stepped closer to Dalton and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You're my best friend, Alec. No, more than that – you're my brother from another mother. I want to see you happy in life, and if hooking you up with your waifu is what it takes, then I'll lend my support the whole way through."

Dammit, if he'd worded that last part just a _tiny_ bit better, the moment would've been perfect. Still, Dalton found himself smiling back as he returned the brotherly gesture.

He'd give it a shot. If he survived – no, _when_ he survived the coming storm, he'd talk to Piña and see if there was any chemistry between them. Who knew? Maybe things would work out perfectly and he wouldn't have to worry about becoming the next Emperor.

…This was still a very bad idea.

* * *

 **(South Gate Ramparts, Sunset)**

"You can see them, right?" Corporal O'Nellis asked her partner, peering through her Markza's scope at the three men on horseback a short distance from the city's wall.

Sergeant Weaver glanced at her, snorted, then resumed observing the bandits through his own rifle. "'Course I can. They seem to be scouts. Probably sizing up our defenses before they send the main force in."

It was the first contact the sniper-spotter duo had with the enemy. Both Gears recognized the armor these scouts wore, even in its somewhat disheveled state, as identical to the sets worn by the armies they'd clashed with at Alnus.

The princess was right, O'Nellis realized. The medieval armies' defeat hadn't just crushed their troops' spirits; some of them were apparently driven insane or disillusioned enough by the experience to rebel against the Empire and turn to lives of crime. The corporal privately felt a little sorry for them, wondering what kind of people they were like before they were called to route the COG invaders from their world.

In the end, these bandits were simply more victims of war, same as the Stranded.

Vinnie, however, clearly had a different mindset. He put his Longshot away and turned to O'Nellis again, grinning one of those yellow-toothed grins that never suggested anything good.

"You wanna piss 'em off?"

She glared back at him. "Vinnie, don't make this worse."

"Too bad, I'm doing it anyway." Then, before she could stop him, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled down in the Special Region language, "Oi! Retards! Why don't you do us both a favor and kill yourselves?! It would save us a lot of time!"

Nobody knew if it was a good thing or not that Weaver was one of the fastest in the squad to learn the native tongue. In this case, it definitely wasn't.

"Ah, go jump off the wall, jackass!" one of the bandits shouted back, shaking a fist at him.

"Do a flip!" another guy called.

The sergeant grimaced, then drew his rifle again and took aim. Faith heard a soft _click_ as he disengaged the safety. "Okay, you asked for this, you primitive fucks…!"

"Vinnie!" This time O'Nellis stepped in, grabbing the gun barrel and gently shoving it away from them. He gave her an annoyed look in return, no longer paying attention to the scouts, who spurred their horses around and fled while they could.

She liked him – more than he was probably aware of – but holy hell, sometimes she swore he said and did things just to make life harder for everyone around him.

Despite being his closest and only friend, O'Nellis knew next to nothing about his past or what factors made him into the cynical troublemaker he was today. It was sort of an unspoken rule after E-Day that Gears didn't open up about their backgrounds – it was just too painful for most of them to remember how everything they'd loved was taken away from them. Vinnie, she suspected, had it rough even before then. He'd never said much about his life before boot camp; the only things he'd confided to her were that he didn't come from a stable family, and how he more or less had to provide for himself.

The time he spent in prison had only served to worsen the issue even further. He'd become even more aggressive and snappy than usual, even before the gate appeared. Faith had done her best to stick by and support him, which she knew he was thankful for, even if he didn't say so out loud.

However, for unknown reasons, his mood had turned particularly nasty since the meeting with the princess. Something was clearly aggravating him, and O'Nellis was determined to find out what.

She snapped out of her mental musings to find that her hand was still gripping his Longshot's barrel. She retracted it, giving a brief apology and thankful that her mask hid her blush when she noticed the quizzical look he gave her, before speaking again.

"Vinnie, you've been acting a little off these past few hours. I know something's bothering you. What's wrong?" she asked softly.

Weaver's expression changed to uncertainty for a few seconds. Then he sighed, rested his rifle against the wall, and pulled out a cigarette carton. The spotter waited patiently while he lit one up and took a quick puff.

"You know me too well. I'm a bit worried about this battle, I guess. There are tons of ways this could go wrong before our backup gets here." He sighed, and his face darkened. "But what _really_ gets under my skin is how Princess Cocktail is using us as fucking decoys!"

Princess Piña had split the bulk of her remaining forces between the east and west gates. The northern side of Italica stood against a sharp cliff, preventing the bandits from attacking in that direction and allowing the defenders to better guard the other three walls; unfortunately for Theta Squad, they'd been tasked with watching the south gate, which bore the brunt of the earlier assault and was thereby strategically the weakest point.

"That royal brat plans to make this side look undefended," Weaver went on. "I'd bet a week's rations there's a second line of defense hiding somewhere behind us, waiting for us to die before they come out. I think Reynolds knows this, too. Surprised she hasn't done anything about it yet."

"Do you think the enemy will fall for that?" O'Nellis inquired.

The sniper shrugged, removing his cigarette to blow a smoke cloud. "Hard to say. I've seen the COG use similar tactics to capture thieving Stranded in the past. But these bandit fucks are ex-military, so who the hell knows?"

O'Nellis nodded and sighed. Like it or not, the princess was the one leading the resistance, and Theta had submitted to her command when they offered to help. Vinnie was right – they were pawns meant to be killed off first when the fighting began. It was a cheap, dirty tactic on Piña's part.

That knowledge made her question if this shaky alliance could last.

* * *

 **(Ten Minutes Later)**

The clock was ticking, Master Sergeant Bare knew. He could feel it in his bones; the primal fight-or-flight instinct that warned him danger was coming. It begged him to escape, urging Bare that this wasn't his fight and that there was no shame in running to live another day.

He easily quashed it down with logical facts and reasoning. He was a Gear, after all, and a veteran one to boot. Combat was his calling in life. Battle was in his blood. After nearly two decades of service, his armor and weapons felt like extensions of his body, to the point where he felt like something crucial was missing when he didn't have them equipped.

Bare personally didn't care if the princess and her lackeys were using him. He'd fight his hardest, as he always did, and if the worst-case scenario happened, he was prepared to draw the bandits' attention away from his squad and toward himself so they could retreat. However, if those bandits so much as laid a hand on one of the girls, they would soon discover a harsh truth: Don't _fuck_ with Teddy Bare.

And speaking of the girls…

Lelei and Tuka both insisted they wanted to fight alongside him and Theta. They'd said as much during the walk back to the south gate, and while he'd initially argued about them putting their lives in jeopardy like that, Lelei had convinced him by explaining that if the second line of defense fell, then she and Tuka were as good as dead anyway. Bare still didn't like it, though he reluctantly conceded that she had a fair point.

Lieutenant Reynolds was also understandably against them fighting when he'd informed her of their decision, but eventually gave in and assigned them support roles. Lelei was apparently able to cast wind-based magical wards, designed by mages to skew the trajectory of incoming arrows. That was a godsend, since the Gears relied exclusively on ranged combat for their advantage, and messing up any return fire would help immensely. As for Tuka, she'd been given a scavenged bow along with a quiver of arrows that had been laying around outside, probably dropped by a bandit during the previous battle. She was under clear instructions to remain hidden and only assist the squad if the bandits managed to breach the courtyard.

Rory, on the other hand, was an entirely different story altogether.

She was Theta Squad's trump card; as far as anyone knew, the bandits had no knowledge of her presence in Italica. She could surprise them at any given moment and raise hell.

Unlike Tuka and Lelei, nobody on the team had any concerns about letting her fight. The reasons? Well, for starters, her signature halberd didn't look like it was just for show. Adding in her ability to go toe-to-toe with the Fire Dragon in close combat, and the fact that she was revered by the people of this land as the Death God's Apostle, Bare was reasonably certain she'd make it through okay.

She was with him now, actually, watching him curiously while the hulking Gear performed light maintenance on his Mulcher. She crouched down to get a better look while he cleaned the inside of the machine gun's barrels.

"Fascinating…" she breathed. "It's so similar to how you clean a sword, but at the same time so very different. What did you say this device was called, again?"

Bare momentarily pushed her question aside, realizing this was the first time he'd gotten a real chance to talk to her. It was true she followed him around like a magnet (a terrifyingly strong and scary magnet, if he had to be specific), although whenever he'd glance her way, she'd just smile at him and keep quiet. Maybe now she felt more inclined to open up and socialize, since nothing too important was happening and the team had a little time to kill.

"This weapon is called a Mulcher," he told her. "It's a hand-cranked, cartridge-fed, rotary gatling gun primarily used for heavy suppressive fire and taking down large targets. It can throw out enough hot lead to reduce an entire platoon to red mist in seconds."

…He'd said all of that in Tyran, Bare realized a moment later. He was still adjusting to having to suddenly switch between languages, and while it was excusable, he didn't quite know how to rephrase his explanation so Rory could understand.

Then again, maybe he wouldn't have to. Rory's crimson eyes were sparkling as she gazed at the Mulcher with newfound appreciation. Had she understood him?

"Oh, my! Such a destructive weapon… a perfect fit for a man of war like yourself!" She looked up at him, her expression hopeful. "May I… may I hold it?"

"I guess, if you can lift it." Bare shrugged.

This ought to be good. Even Bare, who was a fair margin stronger than the average Gear, was slowed down by the machine gun's sheer weight. It would be entertaining to watch this petite little girl struggle to-

His thoughts went blank when Rory picked up the Mulcher with one hand, inspecting it from different angles and turning it this way and that.

Right. Superpowers.

"Someday, you're going to have to tell me how you do that," Bare sighed, rubbing his armored forehead.

Rory giggled. "I suppose you've earned the right to know. We'll make a deal – you survive this upcoming battle, and I'll tell you who I really am."

The Master Sergeant nodded to her. "Deal."

"Splendid!" Rory beamed. A second later, her face grew serious. "Speaking of the battle, I'd like to ask you something. Why are you helping the princess of an empire that's supposed to be your enemy?"

"We're not doing this for the princess," Bare pointed out. "We're doing it to protect the townspeople. They'd get massacred without us."

The veteran soldier's mind flashed back to all the places he'd visited and all the battles he'd fought in over the years. Jannermont. Halvo Bay. Illima. Tollen. Ephyra. Bare had been deployed all over Tyrus to help defend its cities and protect its citizens from the Locust. And every single time, he'd failed miserably.

Illima was the worst. The horrors he saw there would've broken any lesser mind.

Only after rescuing Tuka from the well, and bonding with her and Lelei, did some of his old drive begin to return. He talked with them, taught them things, and spent as much free time as he could spare helping them settle into Alnus Station.

Perhaps more importantly, they, along with Theta Squad and even Rory, eased the lonely feeling he'd carried since... No. He couldn't afford to get distracted thinking about that. About _her_.

"I want to protect the townspeople," he repeated resolutely. "I've seen a lot of cities fall. I've seen countless people die. And I've never been able to save any of them." He swept a hand to indicate Italica. "But here? Now? I won't let it happen again. I won't let another settlement's inhabitants get butchered by monsters."

He jabbed a thumb to his chest and growled, "If those bandits want to hurt these innocent people, or my squad, or you and the other girls, they'll need to get through _me_ first!"

Rory didn't say anything at first. She eyed him thoughtfully, as if wondering whether he was telling the truth, before smiling and nodding in approval.

"Very well said. You know, Emroy isn't just the god of death; he's also the god of war. He does not consider killing a sin… but that makes your motive _very_ important."

"What do you mean?" Bare asked.

"Lies and deception taint the soul," Rory explained. The young Apostle walked closer to him and stood on her tiptoes, gazing into his optics and smiling enigmatically. "Emroy does not tolerate senseless bloodshed, and neither do I." She licked her lips, and her smile grew. "But you, Master Sergeant… I can smell the blood on your hands. You've killed hundreds of people…"

She knew. Somehow she knew, just as Bare knew it would be pointless to lie and claim he wasn't a killer.

"I have," he confirmed slowly. "But you have to understand that I only fight to protect those who can't defend themselves. I fight so others don't have to, and that's the truth."

"And that's why I'm so interested in you." Rory reached up and stroked a reassuring hand over his helmet-covered cheek. "I've only met a few others with such a high body count. However, you're the only one who never killed without a good reason. Your soul remains pure."

Bare froze at both her contact and her words. He didn't know how to respond to either, so he acted on impulse, gently removing her hand while saying the first thing that came to mind.

"I… thanks. It helps to hear that someone else thinks I'm a good man," he confessed.

"Not a problem, Master Sergeant Bare. I'm pleased to have made you feel better." Rory smiled warmly.

"There is one other reason I'm fighting tonight, though."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Oh?"

Bare rolled his neck, letting the joints pop, then did the same with his shoulders. Given his size, the sight was pretty unnerving. "That princess thinks she can get rid of us by using us as bait. I'm determined to show her we won't go down so easily."

"I like it…" Rory suddenly thrust her arms out to her sides. "I _love_ it!"

She jumped onto the edge of the wall, twirling in place and cackling maniacally. Bare grew worried, not just for her safety, but because she was still holding his Mulcher.

"Hey, get down from there! You're going to fall!"

"Terror!" Rory squealed happily, ignoring his protests. "You're going to terrorize her soul to its very core! If that's it, then I'd be happy to help!"

She stopped twirling and casually tossed Bare's machine gun back to him. He grunted and stumbled backward a few steps when the heavy weapon landed in his arms.

Rory curtseyed, grinning like a Gear with an unspoiled chocolate bar. "It's been so long since I've had a chance to go crazy. I can't wait!" she exclaimed.

Well… that made things easier. Theta had just kind of assumed Rory would fight with them, since she didn't seem interested in watching them die, so having her total assurance came as a relief. Bare was also privately curious to see what she could do on a real battlefield. If the Fire Dragon wasn't enough to stop her, then these bandits probably wouldn't have any more success.

The burly soldier grinned under his helmet. If the battle still deteriorated, he had one more trick up his sleeve tucked away in one of the Packhorses. He'd brought it in case the squad ran into an enemy they couldn't defeat with conventional weapons, though it would be equally effective against a huge mob of hostiles all bunched together.

One way or another, those marauders would learn the hard way that you don't fuck with Teddy Bare.

* * *

 **(Italica Woodlands, Nightfall)**

"I swear, sir! I'm not making it up; that man on the wall had to be a Blue Golem!"

Several jeers, insults, and various rude comments echoed through the open clearing in the woods where the bandits made their camp. It seemed that none of them believed what the scouts were reporting.

And why would they? The men returned claiming they saw a guy wearing blue armor on the south wall who threatened them with a long staff. Apparently, the scouts came up with the ridiculous idea that he was one of the mythical golems from Alnus Hill.

The bandits' leader, a man in black armor and an open-faced helmet, held up a hand to silence his comrades. Like them, he was a disgraced soldier with no other objective than to die in glorious battle. He'd remained quiet throughout the meeting, seated on a tree stump in front of a roaring campfire, watching with keen interest as the three scouts nervously rooted themselves in place.

"What you're claiming is preposterous. There's no way the Blue Golems are lurking within Italica's walls." He stated calmly. "Furthermore, why would they waste their time guarding the South Gate with so few men? Shouldn't they know that's the weakest spot? I find myself… unconvinced by your story."

Another round of jeers sounded from his troops at the scouts' expense.

"Sir?" A female voice interrupted. The crowd of brigands parted, allowing a green-haired siren to step into view. A late addition to their group, but a valuable one nonetheless, despite her inexperience in direct combat and filthy animalistic features. If she wanted to risk dying with them, that was fine by him.

"I wasn't at Alnus, but if the stories are true, then wasn't the united army wiped out by only a few thousand golems?" she asked. Several bandits scowled at her, angered that she brought up the massacre so nonchalantly. She didn't notice, however. "If so, then wouldn't it only take a handful of them to kill all of us?"

The bandit leader paused. He hadn't thought of that.

"What about the other gates? How heavily defended are they?" he demanded.

A scout from a separate unit spoke up. "The West Gate is heavily fortified, sir. It's located near the former military district, so I'd advise against attacking from that side."

The leader nodded, then turned to the third scouting party. "And the East Gate?"

"The East Gate's not lacking, either." Another bandit added. "Some Imperial knight is leading the forces there. However, if we attack under the cover of night, we might be able to take them by surprise."

"That almost worked at Alnus," someone muttered.

The crowd broke out into discussion, leaving their commander to his thoughts.

Something wasn't adding up here. If what those scouts said about the South Gate was true, it meant the Empire had somehow forged an alliance with their superior enemy and convinced them to guard the least-defended side of the city by themselves. And in the off-chance his scouts were wrong, and the defenders weren't Blue Golems, then why send so few defenders to that wall compared to the other two?

Either way, the Emperor's daughter was probably expecting them to attack from the south again, and that would end badly for his forces no matter what.

"Change of plans, men," he announced. "Whether or not there really are Blue Golems at the South Gate, the Empire plans to lure us there. They must think us stupid. Here's what I propose instead…"

The bandits' grins reflected in the firelight while their leader reworked their strategy. Soon, very soon, they would experience the joy of killing and dying in battle they'd been denied at Alnus Hill. Tonight, Italica would crumble.

And if the opportunity arose, they would also get revenge on those blue-armored monsters.

* * *

 **Fun fact: Jerge is a canon character. Look him up and you'll understand why I gave him pyrophobia.**

 **Quite a bit of character development in this chapter, eh? I know some of you might think that Reynolds was being too harsh with** **Piña, but after all the horrific shit the COG's been through, it's easy to see why she would be** ** _much_** **less forgiving than Itami about the Empire invading. She could've mentioned the threat of the Locust as an argument towards peace; however, since the Special Region natives currently have no idea what they are, or the state of affairs on Sera, Piña would likely have a hard time believing that a race of genocidal grub people are winning a war against the COG.**

 **Also, Bare seems to have a troubled background (who would've guessed?), O'Nellis is concerned about Weaver's growing harshness, and… what's this? Gyules is actually being a supportive friend and not just a one-dimensional weaboo?! Well, yeah. His character growth arc is probably going to be my favorite out of the whole cast.**

 **Review time:**

 **unknitclown85: The COG is currently keeping the Imperial POW's in a prison camp, interrogating them for information on the Special Region. It was mentioned in an earlier chapter that they aren't being very cooperative. As for your suggestion about conscripting them, I don't think it would work. Language differences, loyalty issues, not to mention the time it would take to teach them how the Coalition's technology works along with the forced changes in tactics… yeah, no. They wouldn't stand a chance against the Locust, even with COG-issued armor and weapons.**

 **BrotherCaptainSheperd: I think what gives Dalton his charm is how relatable a person he is. Marcus is cool, and so is Dom and the other members of Delta, but it's kind of difficult to connect with them on a personal level at times. Dalton's not a disgraced war hero, or a genius technician, or a professional athlete. He's just a normal Gear with his own little quirks, which lets the audience better connect with his thoughts and feelings.**

 **mr guy: Are you seriously for real? The fact that anime and manga are never mentioned in the Gearsverse doesn't mean they can't exist. That's like saying Bernie shouldn't be allowed to have a Commonwealth English accent since England doesn't exist on Sera. And if you'll notice, I've been very careful to avoid pointing out Japan by name. The only references to Asia I've made in general are that Gyules' manga, along with Yanagida, are from some unnamed country to the far east. Considering how little we know about the landmasses of Sera, it's not a stretch to imagine that as true.**

 **Case in point, I'm going to make as many references to the real world as I think I can get away with. There will be a** ** _huge_** **example of that in the next chapter…**


	9. Siegebreakers

**I know, I know… I've been gone a long time, but it's mainly because I've been busy getting my life together. Now that everything's settled, back to the story!**

 **This chapter contains extreme amounts of violence, tons of badassery, slightly unfitting battle music, and a King Raven battle group that may or may not be taking illegal substances. You have been warned.**

 **I also beefed up the range for Gyules' Scorcher to make it more comparable to real-life flamethrowers. The reason the Scorcher has such a short range in the games is because it would be stupidly overpowered otherwise, and would make weapons like the Gnasher and Retro Lancer nearly useless.**

* * *

 **(Formal Mansion, Italica)**

Sitting alone in her private room, nursing her fifth cup of tea in as many hours, Princess Piña tried in vain to quell the uneasy feelings plaguing her.

It was well past midnight and there was still no sign of the bandit horde. Nobody from the east and west gates had reported anything unusual so far, and she'd gotten confirmation from the south gate's secondary defenders that the Blue Golems were dug in and waiting for battle.

 _Gears_ , she corrected herself. Not Blue Golems, although the Empire's name for their new greatest enemy sounded far more fitting in her opinion. Piña had no idea what a "gear" was, but with the fate of Italica currently hanging in the balance, she couldn't be bothered to find out at the moment.

With nothing better to do than sit in a dark room and drink her tea, the Imperial Princess reflected on the meeting she'd held with the otherworldly soldiers earlier today. The legends surrounding the Gears painted them as terrifying creatures of unimaginable power, and after seeing them up close, she could agree that they were indisputably intimidating. If the rumors of their combat prowess were also true – and Piña had no reason to believe they weren't – then her guests probably could've assassinated her where she sat and gotten away without a hitch.

She shuddered despite herself. She'd been able to keep her fear in check earlier while dealing with the enemy, though now that no one else was in the room to see her, she let her discomfort crawl to the surface.

The only advantage she held over the squad was that they obviously weren't diplomats. As a princess, Piña was well-versed in political diplomacy and negotiation despite her illegitimate heritage and preference for a more militaristic lifestyle. None of the other six Gears had spoken much, if at all during the meeting, preferring to let their commander handle the entire thing.

That blond woman, Reynolds, was tough as nails, but she was definitely more of a soldier than a negotiator. And while Piña agreed to her terms of peace, the officer had made a mistake when she set her conditions forth. A single, tiny mistake that would assuredly spell the end for her and her team.

She'd demanded a ceasefire only _after_ Italica was saved. And since the bandits were still out there, that meant the Empire and this "Coalition of Ordered Governments" which Reynolds apparently served were still enemies. Which, in turn, meant Piña could kill two birds with one stone by having them guard the weakest side of the city by themselves.

Did she feel guilty, sending them to their deaths like that? Not really. What little she'd seen of the group hadn't left her with the best impression. Only one of them, Dalton, had treated her with something other than veiled hostility; but even then, his cooperative attitude wasn't enough to stop her from ordering him and his squad on a suicide mission.

Back when Dalton threatened to use his death magic on Italica's citizens after learning her identity, Piña had almost fainted from sheer terror. After he'd calmed down, though, he seemed to transform into an almost entirely different person. Putting his slight social awkwardness aside, he came across as a kind, understanding young soldier who treated those around him with care and respect. He never badmouthed her or Myui, didn't boast about his army's victories, listened with genuine interest to everything she said, and even _thanked_ her after his accidental injury by her hands gave him a full understanding of the Imperial language.

He was… odd, but not necessarily unpleasant.

The princess finished her tea, then turned to look out the window toward Italica's south wall. It was unfortunate that Dalton needed to die, really. Perhaps, if they'd met under better circumstances, she could've talked with him more and learned about-

Hamilton suddenly burst into the room, out of breath and without warning, cutting off the Rose Knight's thoughts. The brunette's wide, terror-filled eyes locked with her superior's.

"Princess! The East Gate is under attack!" she cried.

Piña felt her blood turn to ice.

* * *

 **(Alnus Station)**

Just because the COG specialized in ground-based warfare didn't mean they lacked air or maritime assets. True, they were underfunded compared to the Army. Yes, their forces saw much less direct combat over the course of the Locust War. And yes, their vehicles were more expensive to build and maintain than the Army's.

But when it came to battlefield versatility, nothing beat the Coalition Air Corp's trusty King Raven helicopter line. Designed as a replacement for the aging Corva and Tern helicopters used throughout the Pendulum Wars, the Ravens were built from the ground up to be as adaptable as possible, and they succeeded spectacularly. The birds could do nearly anything: ferry Gears and supplies to and from combat zones, recon dangerous territory, directly assist Army forces on the ground with their high-grade weapons systems, and practically anything else one could need from a chopper.

However, there were drawbacks. Since the COG placed such high value on King Ravens, the Indies, and later the Locust, dubbed them high-priority targets for destruction. The latter in particular were especially troublesome for Raven pilots, since the Nemacyst mortars they utilized could ink up the sky, making navigation difficult at best and impossible at worst – and that was assuming the squid-like creatures didn't simply nail the helicopters head-on.

By that logic, the Special Region should've been a boon for the Air Corps. The only aerial unit the native armies employed were wyverns, and those were easily disposed of by the far superior King Ravens during the Jacinto Incident, and later by heavy artillery teams when the Imperials and their allies attacked Alnus Hill.

The skies of the new world could've been theirs to dominate. Unfortunately for the pilots, the continued need for King Ravens on Sera, along with the Army having everything under control beyond the gate, meant that the construction of an airfield in Alnus Station sat pretty low on the COG's list of priorities. Even more taxing was getting the birds through the gate by themselves; the dark tunnel between the two worlds was large, though no one knew exactly _how_ large. Even the most daredevil pilots didn't want to risk flying through and crashing into some kind of unseen barrier.

As such, the military was forced to painstakingly dismantle the King Ravens piece by piece, ship them through the gate, and have them reassembled on the other side. It wasn't until yesterday that the arduous task was finally completed.

The next problem? The COG only had enough spare Ravens to send in one battle group's worth.

The solution? They knew precisely which group to send: the craziest, most reckless, yet oddly efficient team of pilots in the Air Corps. They were only deployed when Prescott or Colonel Hoffman wanted something destroyed and didn't want the public to know about it. The number of fucks they gave dipped well into the negative integers.

And now, it was their time to shine once more. Composed of a dozen helicopters and led by their decorated and half-insane commander, Battle Group 4, a.k.a. the "Soaring Rednecks", were preparing to depart the base for Italica.

Nestled in the lead Raven's cockpit, Staff Sergeant Spencer "Skippy" Kipp yelled into his communications earpiece while the bird's rotors began to spin up.

"Listen up and listen good, people! Word on base is that one of our recon teams is pinned down in Italica by a bunch of no-good, circle-jerking, cock-sucking wastes of skin who think they can get away with _fucking_ with us! Furthermore, Theta Squad has come in contact with some primpy little princess bitch who promises to negotiate peace once those bandit fucktards are dead. EXCEPT NEITHER FUCKIN' SIDE HAS ENOUGH GODDAMN FIREPOWER TO HOLD 'EM ALL OFF!"

Let it be said that Skippy had the mouth of a sailor and no indoor voice.

 _"_ _Wait, did you say Theta Squad? Isn't Mayweather's niece with them?"_ another pilot asked.

"Damn straight she is! That hot piece of ass is their commanding officer!" the Rednecks' leader hollered in reply, totally not caring if Mayweather was somehow listening in. "Which makes this all the more urgent, if you ask me!"

He grinned maniacally. "Sweet God in Heaven, I'm popping wood just _thinking_ about how many twinkle-toed bandit fuckjobs we're about to slaughter! We'll shove our payloads down their throats so hard and fast, it'll put blowjob porn to absolute _shame_!"

Many laughs and cheerful whoops sounded back over the comms.

"We'll pound their asses so hard, they'll wish they were in the Slab with a cellmate named Bubba! He'd be FUCKLOADS gentler than us!"

 _"_ _We'll bend 'em over backwards and bring the righteous pain!"_ another Gear, presumably a door gunner since his voice was barely audible over the whirling rotors, shouted.

"And most importantly, we will murder these fairy fantasy fuckers with STYLE! We'll screw with their minds so badly, they'll probably strip naked and start yodeling an opera before we grind them all into chunky bits of human meat!"

 _"_ _I don't think it's possible to yodel an opera, sir."_

"Shut the _hell_ up, Mendoza!" Skippy shouted back at the group's resident wise guy. "Now get ready to fucking fly, boys! The captain's counting on us to kill a bunch of assholes who likely won't even be able to fight back, so let's not keep him waiting!"

With flight preparations complete, the twelve King Ravens and their crew of Soaring Rednecks lifted off, armed and ready for battle.

The Staff Sergeant leaned back in his seat and chuckled to himself. This was going to be _fun_. Battle Group 4 hadn't taken part in a rescue operation in years – or any combat operation, after Prescott stuck them on a semi-permanent assignment to patrol Jacinto's borders. He hadn't gotten to kill anything since the Gate first opened, and the thought of making those would-be conquerors scream again sent shivers of delight through his body.

A few minutes after they left the base's grounds, a sudden thought occurred to Skippy. He turned to his co-pilot. "Airman Yancy, do you have the music on standby?"

"I sure do, sir!" Yancy replied, giving the NCO an enthusiastic nod.

"The ten-hour version?"

"Uhh… I could only download the one-hour version, sir. Sorry 'bout that."

"Hmph." Skippy leaned back in his seat, though he refrained from scolding the younger pilot. "It'll do, I suppose. This shouldn't even take an hour."

* * *

 **(East Gate, Italica)**

If Norma Co Igloo had known anything about modern military acronyms, he would've said that the situation at Italica's eastern front quickly went FUBAR: Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.

The sounds of emboldened war cries, screams of dying agony, and steel clashing against steel echoed all around him. The ramparts he was stationed at, as well as the plaza beneath, had devolved from a semi-well organized defensive line into a chaotic, senselessly violent, all-out melee between the town's citizens and the resurgent bandits.

And the bandits were winning by a landslide.

"Defend this area with your lives! This is our last stand!" Norma called to the remaining defenders, simultaneously slashing his heavy longsword through a bandit's midsection.

They came in the middle of the night; a furious, unstoppable tidal wave that easily swept through the East Gate's garrison. They'd poured over the ramparts in droves, mercilessly killing any militiamen who stood in their way. It hadn't taken them long to sweep into the courtyard and open the gate from the inside, allowing hundreds of their fellows free access to the city's interior.

They'd gloated about their success, too. Norma saw one bandit grope the body of a woman earlier, hoping to provoke the second line of defense into breaking formation and attacking early – and it worked. The brave lad who led the countercharge, Nikola, was lying dead in the plaza with a caved-in skull, courtesy of a massive bandit wielding an equally huge ball and chain.

The militia's numbers were rapidly dwindling. The only defenders left on the wall were Norma, the town's blacksmith, and that suspiciously competent assistant merchant, Vylus.

They weren't going to make it through the next five minutes at this rate, the blond teen knew, let alone survive until the light of day. There was no way reinforcements from the other two walls would arrive in time before the last of the East Gate's garrison was wiped out. Even still, his knight's honor demanded that he fight until he drew his last breath.

"Split up and fall back to the stairs, you two! Force them to come to you!" Norma bellowed another order.

Vylus yanked his blade free from another dead bandit and stared at the young commander in shock. "Sir, what about you? You'll be all alone up here!"

"I'll hold them off for as long as I can," Norma growled, determination and fear warring within him. He paused to impale yet another Allied Army deserter trying to climb up over the wall. "Start evacuating the remaining citizens to Formal Mansion. We _can't_ let these brigands take Italica without a fight!"

The two civilians nodded, then broke off in separate directions, hacking and carving their way through the bandit horde to hopefully regroup with the remnants of the militia still fighting in the courtyard.

A few seconds later, the Rose Knight heard the distinct sound of metal tearing through cloth and flesh, immediately followed by an agonized cry from the blacksmith. The bandits he'd been fighting swarmed over his bleeding corpse and rushed at Norma, all of them laughing and grinning wildly.

" _Gods damn you!_ " Norma roared, charging forward to meet them head-on. One great swing from his longsword decapitated the man in front; without waiting for them to retaliate, he swung again and again, felling a marauder with each practiced, deadly blow.

Miraculously enough, he was actually driving them back for a while. The young knight's motivation was proving to be his greatest asset: the bandits, while numerically superior and better trained than the militia, weren't fighting for a unified cause. Some were fighting to try and redeem themselves after the massacre at Alnus. Others had gone insane to a suicidal degree, and joined the battle simply so they could find a place to die.

Norma's reasons for fighting trumped all of theirs. If the Imperials lost this battle, he could only dream of the unspeakable horrors these disgraced men would inflict on Italica's innocent population. Hamilton, Grey, Princess Piña, and Countess Formal would also suffer due to their connections with the Empire. The princess would likely have it the worst, being the daughter of the man who sent this army of former soldiers to a battle they couldn't win in the first place.

And so, he fought on, unbridled rage and a dogged determination to protect his friends fueling each of his blows. For a short time, it looked like he might single-handedly hold the line against the overwhelming horde.

Tragically, motivation wouldn't be enough. Norma was so absorbed in combat that he failed to notice when the next group of bandits scaled the wall over the now-unguarded middle section.

He yelled out in surprise when a pair of rough hands grabbed his right arm as he reared back for another strike, making him lose his grip on his sword. The bloodstained weapon clattered to the ground, and was promptly kicked out of his reach by the bandit he'd been targeting. Before he could realize what was going on, another set of hands took hold of his left arm, effectively restraining him.

And then… _pain_.

A seething pain unlike anything he'd ever felt erupted from his torso. It was so sudden, so agonizingly brutal, that he didn't even have time to cry out.

Norma hunched over and weakly gasped instead, coughing up a wad of blood in the process.

Everything was getting… blurry. He looked down at himself, and through his fading vision, saw the scarlet-coated tip of a blade emerging through his chest.

The pain was already gone, replaced by a cold numbness that was rapidly spreading through his whole body.

 _I'm dying,_ Norma realized. Even the voice in his head sounded distant.

The hands released him. Norma would've fallen, but whoever was holding the sword kept a steady grip on it, keeping the fading teen upright.

 _I've failed…_

He thought he heard a woman scream in the distance. It sounded muddied, just like everything else. He tried to ignore it. There was nothing he could do to help whoever it was. Not now.

In his final moments, Norma Co Igloo's thoughts turned to a certain member of the Rose Knights he'd known since childhood – a gorgeous young lady with a fiery personality and hair like golden silk.

 _I'm sorry, Bozes… I promise I'll never stop loving you…_

The world was growing dark, and so very, very cold…

* * *

" _NORMA!_ " Piña screamed, watching helplessly while her friend was run through before her eyes.

She and Hamilton had rendezvoused with Grey on the way to the eastern front, and the three of them arrived just in time to watch the whole situation go to hell. They were stood on the balcony of a two-story building that overlooked the courtyard below, which provided them with relative safety from the attackers, though it also meant they had nowhere else to run to if the final civilian line faltered.

The princess mentally blocked out the noises surrounding her. The sounds of slaughter, the terrified crying of citizens… all of it. Her tear-filled eyes fixed themselves on the limp body of one of her closest companions.

Norma was gone. Just… taken away in an instant.

And it was all her fault. She'd been so sure of her strategy, so certain that the bandits would attack the South Gate, that she hadn't created a backup plan for the other two gates in case one of them was assaulted instead.

Now, the price she'd paid for her naivety was her friend's life.

Norma's killer held his corpse aloft for his comrades to see, still impaled on the end of his sword.

"The enemy commander is SLAIN!" the bandit chief Piña saw yesterday crowed victoriously.

His declaration was met with a triumphant uproar from his forces on the street below. The militia fighters backed away slowly, now suffering from a huge drop in morale at their leader's death. The three remaining knights could only stare in shocked silence.

The chief finally removed his blade from Norma's body, then casually tipped it over the wall. The dead teen hit the ground with an armored crash.

"Listen up, men!" The bandit leader's voice echoed through the battlefield the East Gate had become. " _This_ is true war! The murder and death that we sought at Alnus, which our fallen fellows never saw! We will kill the Imperials and their pet golems, and then we shall die, satisfied! And that, my brothers, shall be our hymn to Emroy, the god of war!"

"He's gone absolutely mental," Piña heard Grey mutter.

"This is our war!" the chief repeated, spreading his arms to indicate the rapidly crumbling East Gate. "This is what we live and die for!"

Another round of cheers sounded from the bandits. Those who held spears thrust them skyward in anticipation of the coming slaughter; they were soon joined by their comrades wielding swords, axes, and maces. One bandit, a giant of a man wearing a crude iron mask, whirled his flail above his head and sounded a deep, guttural roar.

The lead marauder sighed ruefully. "Unfortunately… while we have finally found glorious battle, it seems many of us will not find the sweet embrace of death. However!" He thrust his bloodstained sword into the air, his frown changing to a grin. "There are plenty of other cities out there! If we survive Italica, then we will move to conquer Rondel next! And if we live through Rondel, then we will move to Telta! And if we somehow manage to survive even _that_ … then we will march on Sadera itself!"

The roars were deafening, but the Rose Knights paid them no mind. They were too horrified by what the crazed man was proposing to care.

"He's planning to attack the Imperial capital…?" Hamilton whispered.

"This could end up turning into a revolution," Grey said gravely. "There are a lot of common folk who dislike how the Empire is running things, especially recently. Some of them might believe he's trying to overthrow the Emperor, and may even join this mad crusade."

The bandit leader spread his arms once more to address the crowd beneath him. His eyes were wild; his grin completely feral.

"My friends… my brothers… my comrades in arms!" he boomed. "Go forth… AND PLUNDER TO YOUR HEARTS' CONTENT!"

Piña was on the verge of hyperventilating. Down in the plaza, the bandit army collectively charged at what remained of Italica's militia, emboldened by their leader's words and the surety of their victory.

The screams that followed… she would have nightmares about them for years.

The princess' eyes drifted across the battlefield, taking in all the violence and casualties. Norma's body laid forgotten near the gate. One militiaman had his homemade spear sliced in two by a bandit's axe; the man himself was killed seconds later. She watched, transfixed, as another marauder picked a dead woman up by the arm and licked her bloodied cheek.

"Dammit! Civilians have entered combat!" Grey shouted. The old knight looked distressed, more than Piña had even seen him. He was normally so calm and composed – seeing him this upset spoke volumes about how deep of a hole they were in.

"Princess, the militia needs reinforcements!" Hamilton added.

Something in Piña snapped. She grabbed her assistant by the shoulders and shook her roughly, just to try and drive some _sense_ into her head.

" _WE DON'T HAVE ANY LEFT!_ " she screeched.

This couldn't possibly get any worse. Norma was dead, the civilians were getting massacred, and there was nowhere for the survivors to run. By the time Bozes and her crew arrived, they would find nothing but the aftermath of a slaughter.

She couldn't call in reinforcements from one of the other gates, either. There was no way anyone from the South or West Gates would make it in time; even if they did, they would leave their sections of the city completely defenseless.

And who even knew what the Gears were up to?

* * *

 **(South Gate, Italica)**

"Well, well, well…" Sergeant Weaver snickered, joining his squadmates in observing the chaos to the east. "Guess that little bitch's plan to get us killed didn't work out. Too bad, so sad, I'm glad!"

It was Weaver who first spotted the growing fire by the East Gate, and he'd called the rest of Theta Squad, plus the girls, to join him and O'Nellis on the wall to get a better view. Most of the others reacted with horror and sympathy, fretting about whether the defense would hold and if the civilians would be safe.

To the group's sniper, however, it was morbidly hilarious payback. He held no outstanding love for this world's primitive people. Besides, the Imperial Princess (more like uptight brat, in his opinion) designed her battle strategy with the obvious intention of getting the Gears killed along with the bandits. If that strategy failed, and shit hit the fan for Italica, well… he wasn't going to lose any sleep over it.

"I wish I had some popcorn right about now…"

"Vinnie…" O'Nellis warned, a bit too late.

Master Sergeant Bare whirled to face him. "What the actual _hell_ is wrong with you?" he hissed, aghast. He stepped closer, towering over his fellow soldier. "People are dying over there, and you're _happy_ about it?! Are you a fucking sociopath?"

Weaver looked up at him, noting for the first time just how _big_ the veteran Gear was compared to the rest of them. And angry. A normal person would've cowered and apologized… except Weaver didn't really care for apologies, so instead he gave the hulking man a lopsided smirk.

"Happy? Nah. More like amused by how badly the princess' plan backfired." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess it sucks that everyone at the East Gate will likely die, but that ain't our problem, is it?"

"Of course it is!"

The sniper yelped when Bare's fist grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward so their faces were only inches apart. The blue glow of the massive man's optics shone menacingly in the darkness.

"Whoa, Bare, what the hell, man?!" Gyules cried, shocked that the normally gentle giant would suddenly get rough.

Weaver struggled to break free, but it was no use. Bare's hold was a vice; impossibly strong and unrelenting.

"We gave our word that we would defend these people!" he growled. "They're counting on our squad to help them. So what if they aren't aligned with us; the COG doesn't leave innocents to die!"

Weaver spoke without thinking. "The Stranded would disagree with you on that."

He was right, technically, but that was probably still the wrong thing to say. Bare tightened his grip, and his other fist trembled.

"You heartless son of a-!"

"Both of you, that's _enough_!" Lieutenant Reynolds bellowed, forcing her way between the two men and shoving them apart. Well, she shoved Weaver away – Bare didn't budge.

"Bare, what you just did was out of line. I expected better from someone who's been in the service since the Pendulum Wars. Don't let it happen again!" she scolded the elder of the two. She turned her attention to Weaver before Teddy could apologize. "Weaver, I've been very tolerant of your 'commentary' so far, but now is _not_ the fucking time! Bare's right; as much as I don't trust the princess and her cronies, the fact remains that Italica's citizens are in danger unless we help repel those bandits. So unless you have something constructive to say, I'm ordering you to shut your goddamn mouth!"

"Um… guys?" a meek voice interrupted.

Reynolds heaved a sigh. "What, Dalton?"

The private pointed to the side of the wall.

"I think something's wrong with Rory…"

All eyes, including the ex-convict's, turned to see what Dalton was referring to. Weaver immediately regretted it.

The strange girl was sat down with her halberd laid next to her, writhing and moaning loudly enough that he wasn't sure how no one picked up on it before now. She seemed to be in the middle of trying to shove the front of her skirt between her legs with both hands, for reasons he didn't want to speculate. Her breathing came in quick, labored gasps, and her face was beet red.

"No… No...!" She squeaked out, beginning to tremble. "There's so much death, I… I can't hold it back… I can't make it stop… Ohhh, it feels so _good_ …"

All seven COG soldiers stared at her blankly.

"HELP ME!" Rory shrieked.

Hutch was the first to snap out of it. The medic walked over and crouched by Rory's side, inspecting the distressed girl for anything that might've triggered her unusual behavior. After a few moments' silence, he turned to Lelei, who was watching the whole altercation unfold with her typical stoic stare.

"She's in ecstasy, but I can't find anything wrong with her. Lelei, you know more about magic than we do. Is there another reason why this could be happening?"

"Ecstasy? Of all the times for her to hit puberty, it has to be now?" Weaver half-snarked. A death glare from Reynolds shut him up, however.

Lelei ignored him. "Rory's body acts as a vessel for souls," she explained. "Whenever a soldier dies in battle, their soul passes through her to Emroy. But there is a side effect… the process has been known to create feelings of… umm... rather intense sexual pleasure."

"So she literally gets off on watching people die? That's fucked up…" O'Nellis muttered.

"Is there something we can do to help her?" Hutch pressed.

If Vinnie didn't know better, he'd say the normally emotionless man looked just as put off as the rest of them at watching a preteen girl struggling to refrain from touching herself. When the battle was done, and the squad went back to base, Weaver vowed to get nice and hammered until he couldn't remember this ever happened.

Lelei nodded to Hutch. "There are two ways to calm her down. We can either let her take part in the killing until she's satisfied, or…" She trailed off briefly. "Uhh… someone can 'satisfy' her in a more… intimate way."

All eyes silently turned to one specific Gear.

"No," Master Sergeant Bare rumbled. "Maybe she would like it, but I wouldn't. Get some other sicko to pleasure her."

The collective group of eyes turned to another Gear.

"…What? Me?!" Private Gyules stepped back, shaking his head. "No way, nuh-uh. Not happening!"

"What's the matter, Weeb? You finally get to live out one of your little fantasies, and you get cold feet all of a sudden?" Weaver jabbed.

Reynolds folded her arms. "As much as I hate to admit it, Weaver's got a point. I thought you were some kind of expert on magical girls?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Gyules fumbled, looking like he wanted to disappear. "I mean, you read about the main character attracting lolis in manga all the time, but it never actually _goes_ anywhere! I like Rory, okay? She's cute and badass at the same time. Awesome combination." He made a frustrated noise and stomped his boot. "But I have standards, darn it! Plus I'm kind of afraid she'll bite my hand off if I touch her."

Wow. Not just a weeb, but also a huge wimp. It said a lot about how fucked up this situation was that even the squad's resident weaboo refused to indulge in what Weaver thought would've been a dream come true for him.

He idly noted how they were discussing who should sexually pleasure an underaged girl while all-out war raged a few miles away. Oh well, still not his problem.

* * *

 **(East Gate)**

"We're getting overrun!" a militiaman in overalls shouted. He ducked beneath a bandit's sword, but the marauder backstepped before he could strike back with his hatchet. "Where are the Blue Gol- _AAAGGHH!_ "

The business end of a gigantic ball and chain cut his sentence short. The civilian flew backwards and impacted the side of a wall, then slumped to the ground, either dead or knocked unconscious.

Another nearby guard grunted, straining with his sword to keep his own attacker's weapon at bay. "Fall back! We need to-!"

 _CRACK!_

This time the ball struck its target in the head, instantly crushing the innocent man's skull. A hulking behemoth of a bandit reeled the chain back in; blood and brain matter from the former soldier's most recent kill smeared across the cobblestone pavement with it. Even his comrades gave him a wide berth as he began to swing the weapon over his head, building up momentum once more for his next, devasting blow.

He roared in challenge beneath his metal mask. It almost didn't sound human.

Still on the safety of the balcony with her two remaining knights, Princess Piña was teetering on the brink of shock. The only sound she made when she saw Italica's last defender fall was a tiny, piteous whimper.

This was it, then. Her plan had failed. She, Grey, and Hamilton would soon join Norma in death, and there was nothing left she could do to prevent it.

She fixed her scarlet eyes on the bandits' commander standing tall and smug on the East Gate's wall. He'd figured out her strategy ahead of time, used that knowledge to his own advantage, and outdone her at every turn. A morbid part of Piña's mind wondered if he would be the one to personally finish her off.

She only paid the barest amount of attention to the voices behind her – she didn't immediately recognize one of them. Someone must have found their way to the balcony; she didn't hear the sound of clashing steel or rending flesh, so she assumed it was an ally.

"Princess Piña!" the new arrival shouted. "At the rate they're going, they'll have the framework of the gate down at any moment! And if that happens, they'll reach the inner city!"

"Calm your nerves, Vylus. We'll think of something," Grey assured him.

It was astonishing how even on the verge of defeat, the aging knight still hadn't given up all hope. The princess wished she could say the same.

"That's _Commander_ Vylus to you, old man!" the last of the militiamen snapped. "And I know total defeat when I see it! Those Blue Golems taught me that firsthand…" Piña heard him exhale sharply. Was he blaming them for their failure to show up? She couldn't tell. "Now listen to me! We need to evacuate Italica while we still can; since the enemy all gathered to attack the East Gate, the West and South Gates must still be holding. We can still live if we act fast!"

She looked down at Norma's body again, then the corpses of the militia. Not all of them would make it out alive.

"This is all my fault…" she whispered.

Hamilton let out a confused "Huh?" the same time Grey said, "What do you mean?"

"I tricked them… I tricked the Blue Golems into a suicide mission. They must've found out and abandoned us." She clenched her fists and teeth. "If I hadn't treated them like pawns, maybe they would've come to our aid… Maybe we would've had a chance…"

 _Maybe Norma would still be alive…_

* * *

 **(South Gate)**

It had taken a lot of coaxing, as well as a fair bit of arguing and the promise of extra ration bars, but Theta Squad's other six members finally managed to convince Gyules to do something about Rory's little… problem. The flame trooper was crouched in front of the raven-haired child, reaching with one shaking hand to the underside of her dress.

"Oh man… Oh shit, I can't believe I'm actually doing this…"

"Rory is our best combatant. We will need her to perform at optimal efficiency. It's for a good cause," Hutch tried to assure him. Though it didn't really sound assuring, thanks to his perpetually flat tone of voice.

"I know, I know…" Gyules groaned. "But seriously, you're the doctor here! Why can't you be the one to fix her?!"

At least the rest of the squad wasn't watching. After placing Hutch and Gyules on "Rory duty", Reynolds had the other Gears huddle around several feet away to begin devising a plan of action for the East Gate. Their voices, however, were drowned out by Rory's increasingly euphoric moaning.

Hutch glanced between the reaper and the pyro. "Well, I-"

 ** _BOOM!_**

An explosion from eastern side of the wall almost knocked them off balance. Tuka, Lelei, and the other members of the squad – minus Bare, for some reason – all jumped. Rory's moans evolved into screams.

"What the fuck was that?!" Private Dalton cried.

Bare peered over the wall, staring at the fresh smoke and fire not too far from the South Gate's entrance. "Someone must've tripped one of the proximity grenades," he explained. "Or something. Can't really see much from here."

Tuka, curious over the sudden commotion, joined the Master Sergeant in his observation. Her long ears twitched slightly.

"I hear voices. I can't tell how many, but there's quite a few of them." She reported.

"Bandits," Weaver grunted. He and O'Nellis were looking in the blast's direction as well, viewing the destruction down the scopes of their rifles. "Looks to be about fifty of 'em left. My guess is they wanted to sneak into the south side of the city while the eastern front's occupied."

"They were probably expecting to catch us off-guard, or hoping we'd left for the East Gate already so they could make their move." O'Nellis added.

Normally, one-to-five odds were never a good thing, especially in wartime. Then again, when the smaller side consisted of a gifted mage, a talented archer, the Demigoddess of Death, and seven highly trained soldiers with technologically superior armaments, those odds were rendered a somewhat moot point.

Still, the fact that Italica was now under assault from two different fronts didn't bode well. To make matters worse, even though dawn was fast approaching, the reinforcements Reynolds called for _still_ hadn't arrived.

The situation took an even further nosedive when Rory suddenly decided she'd had enough of not getting in on the action.

"I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!" she shrilled, springing to her feet with her halberd in hand. "I NEED TO KILL!"

She shoved Gyules aside, provoking a startled cry from the young Gear, and jumped off the side of the wall, landing gracefully at the bottom with no signs of injury.

"Rory! Where are you going?" Tuka called out.

The demigoddess ignored her. She bolted down the street at superhuman speeds, then jumped – _jumped_ – to the roof of an adjacent two-story building. She continued to leap from one rooftop to the next, soon disappearing out of sight.

"She's heading for the East Gate!" Bare shouted.

"What do we do now?!" Dalton looked close to panicking again.

Lieutenant Reynolds ground her teeth. Rory was incredibly powerful, she knew – far more lethal than her outward appearance would suggest. If she could stall a Fire Dragon, then wiping out a horde of psychotic ex-soldiers should be child's play by comparison. However, there was no guarantee she wouldn't also end up killing the princess and her knights, accidentally or otherwise. Humans were often unpredictable while in the heat of sexual ecstasy.

And then there were the would-be sneak attackers right by the south side's doorstep…

She pointed to one of the squad's Packhorses and barked out orders. "Hutch, man the turret! Kill anything that tries to get through the gate! Bare, lay down suppressive fire from the wall! Tuka, Lelei, cover them in any way you can!" She moved to hurry downstairs. "The rest of you, get in the LAV! We're going after Rory!"

* * *

Teddy Bare watched his teammates speed off in the Packhorse from the top of the bulwark.

Reynolds, Weaver, Gyules, Dalton, and O'Nellis. The five of them would have to be enough to rein in Rory and hopefully get the East Gate back under allied control. He wished he could've gone with them; not just because he was worried about the rogue Apostle, but because they were making a beeline straight into the thick of the fight. As the team's heavy weapons specialist, Bare's home was on the front lines, chewing through waves of enemies with his trusty machine gun. It was a role he'd perfected over his many years of service.

On the other hand, with Theta Squad forced to split, it was understandable why Reynolds left him to defend the southern half of the city. She likely couldn't have afforded to leave more than two Gears behind to deal with the smaller mob of bandits. So why not leave behind the one man who specialized in weapons of mass destruction?

Hutch was an odd choice at first glance, but there was also a logic behind it. He had very limited use in direct combat, and because the rest of Theta would be engaging the bulk of the bandits head-on, it was best to keep him away from it. That being said, it was a smart move to place him on the turret – it turned the south side's entrance into a bottleneck kill zone.

They hadn't bothered to open the gate, either. It would be easy enough to simply shoot through it and kill anyone on the other side. The door would likely be reduced to splinters, but it gave Hutch the element of surprise.

Even still…

"You ready for this, Private?" Bare radioed the other man.

 _"_ _Yes."_ Came the response.

"You sure? You don't seem like the type who actively enjoys fighting."

 _"_ _Those bandits are aiming to kill our squad and the townspeople. I will not let that happen. Sometimes, the only way to save a life, is to take someone else's."_

Well. That was… morbid. Also very true, a dark portion of his mind admitted.

"Interesting way of putting it," the veteran agreed. "Good luck, Hutch. Next time we're at base, first round of drinks is on me."

 _"_ _I don't drink."_

He said nothing else afterward, so Bare cut the feed. He turned to the pair of Special Region girls next.

"Lelei… Tuka…" he began softly. "I know Reynolds said to support us, but you can hide if you want. Between the two of us, Hutch and I should be able to take care of fifty bandits."

Lelei's expression was unusually firm. "No. What if there are archers in their ranks? What would happen if they managed to scale the wall? You'd be overwhelmed."

"I appreciate you looking out for us, but Lelei's right. If you die, then…" Tuka shook her blond head. When the elf looked back at him, her eyes held steel. "We'll do our best to assist you; I promise. The COG is all about working together, isn't it?"'

Bare didn't know what to say. Even though they were putting their lives at risk by taking part in the fighting, the Master Sergeant couldn't stop himself from feeling genuinely touched. They really were fantastic and brave-hearted girls.

Almost like the daughters he'd never had.

He grinned under his helmet. "It is. Now get ready, you two – we've got a city to save."

They both nodded, smiling. A moment later, Tuka's ears began twitching again.

"They're coming," she breathed.

Bare wasted no time. He picked his Mulcher up from the ground, checked one last time to make sure it was fully loaded, then rested it against the edge of the wall. Indeed, his own ears steadily picked up the sound of armored boots marching in their direction.

He waited until he could see their outlines in the darkness; a wall of shadowed forms punctuated by the occasional piece of glinting metal. He couldn't make out any features yet, but the number seemed about right.

Time for Teddy Bare to go to war once again. One large hand rotated the Mulcher's crank, while the other rested over the trigger. The weapon's three barrels began to spool up and steadily gain speed.

"Okay, you rotten sacks of shit!" he bellowed. "EAT LEAD!"

The heavy machine gun roared to life as soon as the words left his mouth. It was accompanied by a second gatling gun a few seconds later, and joined shortly after by the twang of arrows and the distinctive burst of magic unleashed.

It was a war in itself as to what was louder; the quartet's combined firepower, or the bandits' death screams.

* * *

 **(Italica Streets)**

The Packhorse carrying the majority of Theta raced through the city streets at dangerous speeds, doing its best to keep up with the agile Rory the Reaper.

Sergeant Weaver's stomach lurched when Reynolds took her fifth ninety degree turn without slowing down. Holy fucking shit. He thought he'd seen crazy drivers before, but the lieutenant seemed dead set on earning the not-so-glamorous title of "Worst Motorist Ever".

She took a sixth turn. When the world stopped spinning, the sniper found himself sandwiched between Gyules and the back doors.

"I'll never neglect seatbelts again!" Dalton exclaimed. The private was trying to anchor himself in one spot using his limbs, with limited success.

Weaver couldn't agree more.

"Reynolds, whoever gave you your driver's license deserves to be shot!" he shouted.

The officer didn't react to her soldiers' comments. She only paid occasional glances at the road (something which _deeply_ unsettled her passengers), mainly focusing on Rory and trying to predict which direction she'd leap to next. At this point, Weaver would've felt safer with the bandits than inside this death trap.

 _"_ _Theta-One, this is Staff Sergeant Kipp of KR One-Three! Do you copy?"_

It was the incoming transmission on an open channel that finally made her slow down a bit. Just in the nick of time, too – there was no way she would've avoided hitting that fruit stand up ahead at the speed she was going.

"I read you, One-Three! You sure took your sweet time getting here!" she radioed back. Her tone sounded moderately annoyed. She looked it, too.

Weaver could almost hear Kipp's nonchalant shrug. _"Yeah, well, I've never been very good with directions. Status report!"_

"The East Gate is under heavy enemy attack, and we're on route to assist! Repeat, the East Gate is under attack! ETA less than five minutes!"

 _"_ _Copy that, Theta-One. Uhh… which side is east, again?"_

Reynolds let out a loud, exasperated groan. "The side that's on fire."

 _"_ _I read you loud and clear! We're still five mikes out, but we'll be at the party shortly. And we brought music! KR One-Three signing out, over."_

Spencer Kipp… that was a familiar name, though Weaver couldn't place his finger on where he'd heard it before. He wouldn't have time to, either, after the lieutenant's next swerve resulted in Dalton somehow ending up in his lap.

Oh well, at least O'Nellis was safe in the passenger seat, all strapped in and begging for God to see them through this time of trial. As long as she wasn't hurt, Weaver wouldn't give Reynolds a demonstration of what happened with ol' Major Quinley.

* * *

 **(Italica Outskirts)**

As Theta Squad raced to save their allies, the Soaring Rednecks were approaching Italica from the south. The Special Region's sun was rising over the horizon, which inwardly pleased the King Raven battle group's commander. It meant he'd get a much better view of the imminent chaos.

"We're fast approaching the East Gate, sir," Airman Yancy informed him. "There might still be some friendlies inside the walls, so I reckon we should target anyone outside first."

"Good thinking, Yancy." Skippy agreed with a nod. "Bring us in at ten o'clock."

As his co-pilot adjusted their course, the mad Staff Sergeant radioed the other eleven pilots. "All right men, get ready to pound some pussies! Weapons free! I expect you all to kill with _extreme_ prejudice!"

He turned back to his partner.

"Airman Yancy… _play the fucking music_."

"You got it, sir!" Yancy saluted. The young Air Corps member pressed a button on the Raven's built-in stereo system.

The opening notes of a classic, inspiring piece of music echoed from the helicopter: _Flight of the Valkyries_.

"Dammit Yancy! Wrong song, wrong song!" Skippy barked, looking supremely pissed off at his co-pilot's mistake.

"Whoops! Sorry, sir!"

Yancy hit the button a second time. After an agonizing ten seconds of waiting for the damn system to buffer, a new song began to play: _Flight of the Silverbird_.

Skippy leaned back in his seat and sighed contentedly, letting the deceptively gentle intro tame his bloodlust a bit. "Ahh… that's much better. This right here, Yancy? This is my _jam_."

"At least them bandits is gonna die listenin' to good music," Yancy quipped.

* * *

 **(East Gate)**

This assault had gone far better than expected, the bandit leader thought to himself with a grin. The East Gate was on its last legs, and once the princess and her lackeys were dead – or captured, he amended, licking his lips at the thought – then nothing would be able to shield the city from his army's wrath.

What was more, he hadn't seen a single Blue Golem the entire night. True, he felt disappointed that he hadn't been able to claim revenge for Alnus Hill, but there would be time for that later. Right now, there was a city to pillage and a few nobles in need of a reality check.

He laughed out loud at the irony of the whole situation. Him, a peasant born to poor farmers in Arguna, about to seize total control of the Empire's most valuable trading hub. If he'd known ahead of time how profitable and fun being a bandit was, he'd have switched sides a long time ago. It sure beat harvesting potatoes or getting sent on suicide missions by a senile old Emperor, that was for certain.

It was only a matter of time, now. His strongest follower was just finishing up pulverizing the last of Italica's pathetic militia; once he was done, the remainder of the Empire's loyal citizens were next. He could already see them cowering behind their flimsy wooden barricades, as if that would somehow save them from what was coming.

On the other hand… why wait? There were still plenty of battle-hungry marauders at his disposal, ready and itching to finish this.

He gestured with the tip of his sword at the hiding civilians.

"Kill them all! Leave no survivors!" he commanded.

The big lug with the flail was the first to roar his approval, joined a moment later by the rest of the bandit army.

The civilians screamed for their lives. Some ran away, hoping to escape further into the city. He'd let them, if only because the one thing more fun than a good battle was a good hunt.

His eyes shifted to the Emperor's bastard daughter next. The little brat hadn't moved in a while, still frozen in shock over the deaths of her men, along with her precious wannabe knight friend. He'd deal with her personally, he decided.

After all, what better way to hurt that tyrant on the throne than-

Something slammed into the courtyard with enough force to send out a small shockwave.

The bandit leader flinched, as did everyone else still standing. When he got a good look at what the "object" was, his eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets.

"Rory Mercury…?" one of his men below murmured in awe. The grip on his sword faltered; the clattering sound it made when it hit the ground echoed across the suddenly silent battlefield.

He started to walk closer to the Apostle of Emroy, entranced by her presence.

"Elrik, don't go near her!" the head bandit called to him.

Elrik didn't listen to the warning. He took several more tentative steps forward until he was within arm's reach of Rory. She regarded him in turn with a neutral frown, which didn't change when the bandit suddenly dropped to his knees.

"I WORSHIP YOU!" he cried out, clasping his hands together in prayer.

Rory said nothing, simply raising a curious brow. Then, without batting an eye, she brought her mighty halberd overhead and descended it on her groveling follower.

A sickening _crunch_ reverberated through the plaza.

The commander's face went several shades paler. The Apostle of Death had joined the fray, and she didn't seem to be on his side – not if she executed poor Elrik so casually. This… could be bad.

The ball and chain bandit roared again, obviously displeased by his comrade's death. He spun his weapon and charged, determined to smash the girl into paste.

Rory didn't move from her spot. She didn't even turn to look at the raging mass of muscle barreling towards her.

When the bandit started to bring the iron ball downwards, that's when she made her move. She sidestepped the attack at blinding speed, then moved back in to counterattack, hooking the space between the halberd's blade and shaft around the man's neck. She did it so quickly and with so much force that a section of the marauder's mask shattered, exposing his shocked expression for everyone to see.

Satisfied that he was trapped, Rory tossed her massive opponent aside like yesterday's garbage.

If the bandit leader wasn't so terrified, he would've noticed that he'd soiled himself. His fears were about to become a whole lot worse, however, when he suddenly heard a faint sound behind him that grew louder by the second.

"Is that… music…?" he asked aloud, glancing backwards.

* * *

 **(East Gate Perimeter)**

" _Attention bandit scum!"_ Skippy's voice bellowed over the increasingly dramatic music. " _My name is Staff Sergeant Spencer Kipp, and I have a serious murder boner that won't go away until I put all your shit-stained asses in the ground! I hope you've all made peace with whatever god you believe in, because I'm about to MURDERDEATHKILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!"_

The mad pilot slammed a fist over his favorite button (which had a smiley face sticker on it for convenience), launching a missile directly at the wall. The sight of the explosion and a few bandits falling to their deaths made his blood run hot. He _lived_ for this kind of work.

More King Ravens followed suit, sending their own barrage of missiles and machine gun fire at every bandit in sight. They were too slow to notice the sudden attacks from behind until about forty of them were dead; they immediately broke rank and scattered, which was exactly what Skippy was hoping for.

" _Run all you want; you can't escape the Soaring Rednecks!"_ he gloated.

Yancy took the chopper in for a strafing run parallel to the wall. KR One-Three's door gunners were more than happy to chip in, spraying ammunition at every enemy in their line of sight below.

With the run complete, Yancy took the Raven a little higher and turned around in preparation for another. As he did so, the younger Gear noticed something odd on the camera feed.

"Looky there, Staff Sergeant! Them fellers have a ballista!" he informed his superior.

Skippy looked at his own feed. Sure enough, two bandits were attempting to load a spear into one of Italica's wall-mounted defenses.

"Well, let's make them _not_ have a ballista!"

He pressed the Happy Button again. The battle group's leader cackled with delight as the anti-air weapon, along with its operators, were blown to kingdom come.

The bandits were in full panic mode at this point. Realizing they couldn't fight back against these flying mechanical monstrosities, they tried to flee in random directions, but were cut down by the King Ravens' superior mobility and firepower before they could make it very far.

Skippy was particularly pleased to see a bunched-up group of bandits get ripped apart by a Boomshot round.

"Nice shot, Mendoza!" he complimented over the radio. The grenadier might've been a smarty-pants, but he loved a good explosion just as much as his commander.

"Beginning the next run, sir," Yancy said. "Wanna give the ol' chain gun a spin?"

Skippy's grin was nightmarish. "Do I ever!"

The battle music hit its peak, shifting from an inspiring orchestra to a heavy metal riff. Both pilots were on the edges of their seats, the bandits' blood was soaking the ground under them, and the party was only getting started.

* * *

 **(East Gate)**

Back in the city, Theta Squad was still chasing down their warmongering ally known as Rory Mercury. They'd lost sight of her a few streets back, though they were close enough to the East Gate that the five Gears knew they'd catch up soon.

Reynolds took the final turn as hard as the others, then gunned the Packhorse down the main street. As they flew down the long straightaway, O'Nellis leaned out the window and fired a flare gun into the morning sky.

"Just letting our backup know we've arrived," she explained when Reynolds gave her a questioning glance.

The lieutenant nodded and turned her attention back to driving.

A few seconds later, her radio went off.

 _"_ _Lieutenant, this is Bare. The South Gate's almost secure; we're just mopping up the last few tangos."_ A pause. The squad heard machine gun fire a moment later, though it was over almost as quickly as it began. _"Hands off that bow, you bastard… Anyway, you guys need assistance?"_

"Copy that, Master Sergeant. As long as the south side won't become compromised in your absence, feel free to stop by and raise some hell." Reynolds squinted, just now noticing the distinct shapes of King Raven helicopters in the distance. "If you can get here before Rory and our backup kill everything first, that is," she amended.

 _"_ _Roger. Hutch and I will rendezvous with you ASAP. Bare, out."_

After the call ended, Reynolds veered the steering wheel to the left while simultaneously hitting the brakes, bringing the Packhorse to a screeching halt. Of course, this also had the adverse side effect of causing Weaver, Dalton, and Gyules to all slam into one another, but that was the least of her worries right now.

She unbuckled herself, grabbed her trusty Retro Lancer, and stepped outside, prepared to do battle with the remnants of the COG's old foe. O'Nellis mirrored her movements from the passenger side, sliding a fresh magazine into her marksman rifle and locking it in place.

The rear doors opened next, allowing the three men inside to tumble out onto solid ground.

"LAND!" Dalton exclaimed, collapsing to his knees in joy.

Ignoring the overdramatic rookie, Reynolds looked ahead. She could vaguely make out moving forms at the East Gate's entrance, accompanied by the faint sounds of steel colliding with steel and familiar deranged laughter. Rory must've found her prey, then.

In the skies above the urban battlefield, what seemed like a dozen King Ravens were relentlessly hammering the bandit army.

"Yo, is that _Flight of the Silverbird_?" Gyules piped up. "That's some real motivational shit right there! Is anyone else suddenly pumped to run down there and burn some bad guys?"

"What are our orders, Lieutenant?" O'Nellis asked.

Reynolds didn't have to think long. "Weaver, take O'Nellis and find the princess! Her safety is our top priority! Gyules, assist Rory with the bandits in the courtyard! Dalton, you and I will cover them! Got it?!"

"Yes, ma'am!" all four of her squadmates declared.

* * *

Was this… really happening? Was the flow of the battle finally turning in her favor?

A scant few moments ago, Princess Piña faced imminent, and absolute, defeat. Italica's militia was on the verge of being wiped out completely. The bandits had the majority advantage in numbers, training, and maybe even motivation. The COG was still nowhere to be seen, and she had reason to believe they'd figured out her scheme and decided to cut their losses.

The Imperial forces had no hope of surviving the next hour…

Until a miracle arrived in the form of Rory Mercury, Demigoddess of Death.

Watching her fight, Piña took back every bad thing she'd ever said about the pint-sized Apostle and her church. Rory was holding nothing back; a shield wall didn't even slow her down, proven when her gargantuan halberd sliced through the whole formation with one forceful swing. She sliced, chopped, and thoroughly dismembered each bandit she set her crimson eyes on, laughing like the little psychopath she was the whole time – as if this was all a game to her.

Actually, that might not be entirely wrong. Rory had killed a _lot_ of people in her long lifetime, as expected of someone with her title, so a small army of outlaws, to her, was probably the equivalent of a warm-up exercise for anyone else.

And if Rory tilting the playing field by herself wasn't enough…

"A… monster…" She remembered Hamilton whimpering.

"Is that… flying steel?" Grey shielded his eyes from the rising sun to get a closer look at these new, mysterious creatures. "How can that be?"

Shortly after Rory's arrival, a dozen strange beasts seemingly made from metal appeared from beyond the city's walls. They were heralded by what Piña could only guess was some kind of music, as well as a rant in an unfamiliar language. Whatever they were, and wherever they came from, one thing soon became clear: they wanted the bandits dead.

A few minutes ago, Piña and her knights were on the cusp of defeat. Now, Rory Mercury was merrily slaughtering the marauders in the plaza, while… whatever those things were… took care of the bandits outside the city.

"I don't even know what's happening right now," the royal said out loud.

Down below, Rory somehow got herself surrounded by ten bandits, all armed with spears.

"Now!" one of them shouted.

They charged at her together, spears raised, but Rory was faster. She leapt high into the air to avoid getting skewered, twirling as she did so, then buried the sharpened edge of her halberd into one of the outlaws' shoulders. With her target still stuck to her outstretched weapon, the Reaper performed a full spinning sweep attack, using the man as a bludgeon to knock her opponents off their feet. She effortlessly kicked him off of her weapon after he'd outlived his usefulness.

 _So this is the power of Emroy's chosen,_ Piña thought to herself. _Not much to look at, but she's as powerful as the stories claim her to be. How impressive…_

The princess' eyes suddenly widened. One of Rory's previous victims, the lunk with the ball and chain, had gotten back on his feet and made a beeline straight for her. He raised one meaty fist overhead, bellowing like a rogue elephant.

She was about to call out to the Apostle, but someone else beat her to it.

"LEAVE HER ALONE, EVILDOER!"

The statement was punctuated by a blast of fire that knocked the behemoth off-balance at the last second. To the knights' great surprise, one of the Blue Golems rushed into battle from the main street; he now stood by Rory's side, aiming his weapon at the flailing marauder.

"Wait, is that who I think it is?" Hamilton asked.

Grey folded his arms over his chest plate.

"Looks like the COG didn't abandon us after all," he noted. The beginnings of a smile slowly crept over his weathered face.

Private Gyules unleashed another stream of deadly flames from the Scorcher's nozzle, immolating the fallen bandit. He thrashed around violently for a couple more seconds, screaming in agony as his flesh was charred and blackened, until he finally went still.

The remaining bandits, terrified at the carnage they just witnessed, slowly began backing away.

"A Blue G-Golem…" One of them stuttered out. "Th-That has to be a Blue Golem…"

"So they're really here, in Italica…" Another man breathed, fear and awe mixed together in his voice.

"Are you kidding me?! Now they can control the flames of the Fire Dragon? How is that even possible?!" a third bandit screamed in terror.

Piña found herself wondering the same thing.

Gyules, though, didn't seem interested in answering the man's question. Instead, he pointed his flamethrower at the gathered crowd and bellowed a single word.

" _BUUUUUUUURRNNN!_ "

A third fiery wave erupted following his proclamation, instantly setting the eight bandits within range alight. They screamed, stumbling over and desperately trying to pat the flames out, but their efforts were in vain. The COG soldier swept his Scorcher in an arc, burning his fallen enemies to a crisp, and setting a few more on fire in the meantime.

"I don't know what you did to get those armored monstrosities on our side, Your Highness, but I'm really glad you succeeded," Vylus quipped. She heard him swallow. "As dangerous as these bandits are, the Blue Golems are without a doubt worse. _Far_ worse."

Piña would've asked how he knew that, if the sickening smell of charred flesh hadn't reached her nostrils first.

She gagged instead. "I think I'm going to be sick…"

* * *

"Dammit, Gyules, wait for us to get into position next time!" Lieutenant Reynolds yelled, stopping behind one of the remaining wooden barricades with Private Dalton in tow.

One civilian, crouched in a shadowy corner to make herself scarce, lifted her head to see who had spoken those foreign words. She gasped lightly when she noticed the pair, standing tall in their heavy blue armor.

"Are you the Blue Golems?" Tears began welling up in her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice audibly shook. "H-Have you come to save us?"

"We have," Dalton replied with a nod. "We'll take it from here. Grab everyone who can't fight and get yourselves to safety."

The woman nodded back, then got up and ran off to carry out his orders.

With that finished, Dalton joined Reynolds in observing the literal firefight in the courtyard. It was hard to take his eyes off what he saw.

Rudy was handling his flamethrower like a pro. He made slow advances on the bandit horde, incinerating any who got too close, while those who were out of the Scorcher's range were pushed back into open spots. Rory, having caught onto the pyro's strategy of divide and conquer, rushed in and slaughtered the scattered groups of brigands once the flames were no longer focused on them. It was a brutal tactic, designed to keep maximum pressure on the enemy at all times and prevent them from fighting back effectively.

There was, however, one major flaw to the plan, which Reynolds was quick to notice.

"Shit! Private, on your nine!"

Gyules didn't act fast enough, so the officer kindly did him a favor and shot the sneaky bandit trying to flank him from the left.

She turned to Dalton. "Keep those assholes away from him, understood? I'm moving in closer!"

She hopped the barricade before he could reply. Another bandit tried charging her, but Reynolds ducked beneath his sword swipe and dug her Retro Lancer's bayonet deep into his abdomen. She fired off a few more shots point-blank, which drowned out his cries of pain, then messily yanked the blade out.

Dalton looked away from her, taking a moment to survey the battlefield as a whole. Rory and Gyules were doing a remarkable job keeping the horde at bay by themselves, though with Reynolds joining in with some extra ranged firepower, there was nowhere safe in the courtyard for the outlaws to hide.

Beyond the wall, all twelve King Ravens continuously pounded the army's reinforcements. They were still blaring their theme music, and Alec had to agree with Rudy – it was some real motivational shit.

His eyes drifted down the assault rifle resting in his hands.

"Guess it's time I do my part, too," he said to himself.

Delicately resting the Lancer's barrel on the barricade for support, Dalton clicked off the safety, aimed carefully at the closest bandit, and let his gun do the talking. Unlike in Jacinto, this time he held no reservations about killing other humans.

These men wanted to kill his fair princess, after all. No way in _hell_ was he letting that happen.

* * *

 **(Italica Streets)**

As the battle for the East Gate raged on, Master Sergeant Bare's team was en route to assist the rest of the squad.

The South Gate was secure, albeit suffering minor damage during the skirmish. Like at Alnus Hill, the bandits seemed to believe that charging the gate all at once would bring them victory, though that assumption was swiftly discredited the moment the wall's defenders began their retaliatory barrage. The "battle" (and Bare used that term _very_ loosely) was over in minutes, thanks to the combined power of magic, skillful archery, and enough machine gun fire to temporarily deafen a certain sensitive elf.

"Remind me never to stand near you again when you use that thing!" He heard Tuka say from the Packhorse's cramped rear compartment. She was referring to his Mulcher, which was hastily stuffed somewhere in the huge pile of crap.

It was nearly out of ammo, too, though that wasn't a concern to Bare. He still had his secret weapon stored in the back; one that would doubtlessly force the bandits to surrender once they got a little… demonstration.

"You could've just moved somewhere else, you know," he retorted. "When I said you could fight by our side, that didn't mean you had to hang out right next to me."

Hutch decided to chime in from the passenger side. "It's partially my fault, as well. I should have warned you beforehand about the risks of standing near our weapons without adequate ear protection. My sincerest apologies."

The muscled Gear heard her pout, though he didn't have time to worry about the elf's hurt feelings. Italica was still a red zone; until he regrouped with Theta and Rory, and finished off however many bandits were left, he couldn't let his thoughts wander.

"Reynolds went this way," he said instead, navigating the jeep down another of the market city's many roads.

Lelei peeked between the front seats to stare out the front window. "How do you know this?" she queried, turning her curious eyes to the group's driver.

Bare shrugged. "Eh. I'm just following the skid marks."

"I see… And what are 'skid marks'?"

"Lelei, no offense, but I really need to focus on the road. Ask Hutch or something."

A short while later, after following a long trail of tire marks sprinkled with occasional pieces of ruined property, Bare and Hutch saw the team's other Packhorse parked sideways near the end of a long street. The Master Sergeant brought his own vehicle to a rough stop.

Like their squadmates, all four of them heard carnage to the theme of motivational music unfolding in the distance. Before Lelei or Tuka could ask what was going on, Bare turned around to face them.

"We're almost there. Grab your gear, stay behind us, and cover our backs if you need to. You've done good so far, but this is where the real battle is taking place."

Both Special Region girls nodded, following Bare and Hutch as they exited the jeep. Teddy sent a quick comm message as he shut the door.

"Reynolds, it's Bare. We're just around the corner from you, so hang tight until we get to your position, over."

 _"_ _Copy that!"_ the lieutenant answered back. Her voice was barely audible over the clusterfuck of gunfire, screams, music, and helicopter rotors. " _We're holding steady, but the more assistance we get, the better!"_

The veteran then circled around to the trunk, popping it open with the Packhorse's key. He cleared away some of the clutter surrounding a massive object covered by a blue tarp.

He removed the tarp with a flourish, garnering mixed reactions from his team. Tuka made a small noise of fear, while Lelei tilted her head in confusion, probably wondering why he owned such a weapon and how he fit it inside the trunk in the first place. Even Hutch could only let out a resigned sigh.

"What… What _is_ that thing?" Tuka stammered.

"Overkill." Hutch said dryly. "Unnecessary overkill."

Bare reached down, and with a grunt of effort, hoisted the oversized gun over his shoulder.

"I like to call it insurance," he stated. "Hutch, grab the ammo canister. Let's show these assholes what happens when you mess with the COG!"

* * *

 **(East Gate)**

 _WHAM!_

Something slammed into the door to the balcony where the Rose Knights, plus Vylus, were taking refuge.

"They've found us!" Hamilton screamed, ducking behind Grey's larger frame while the older knight unsheathed his greatsword. A moment later, apparently remembering that she was also a knight herself, Hamilton drew her own blade and stood beside Gray. She could've been caught in a blizzard, she was shaking that badly.

Piña reached for her own sword, even as Vylus stepped in front of her.

"I'll be your shield, Your Highness!" he declared.

 _WHAM!_

Another impact shook the door. The four warriors tensed, bracing themselves for combat.

"At least one of them must've slipped past the Blue Golems," Grey surmised. "Rose Knights, prepare to strike!"

 _WHAM!_

The door finally burst open. When Piña saw who was on the other side, she relaxed her posture and lowered her sword.

"Sheathe your weapons!" she commanded her followers. "These ones are on our side."

"Geez, you really know how to make your allies feel welcome, Princess," Sergeant Weaver drawled, stepping out onto the balcony. O'Nellis brushed past him, immediately moving to the railing to take a look down into the courtyard.

"Wow, Gyules is on a rampage down there. Didn't think he had that kind of killer intent in him." She noted.

As if to confirm just how into the massacre he was getting, the pyro took that opportunity to start yelling very, very loudly.

" _RRRAAAAAAAGHH!_ I AM RUDY! BARBEQUER OF BANDITS! INCINERATOR OF EVIL! YOU SINNERS CANNOT HOPE TO ESCAPE MY ALL-POWERFUL CLEANSING FLAMES!"

He was so enraptured in his speech that he didn't see a bandit rushing him from the right side. O'Nellis shot the guy before he could do the young Gear any harm, though.

"You owe me a beer, kid!" she yelled down at him.

While she took more shots from their vantage point, Weaver hung back to address the gathered defenders.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he began, lighting another cigarette as he spoke. "Old guy and militia dude need to watch the door. Pretty sure I knocked the lock loose, but, eh, that's what happens when you slam it with a rifle butt too many times." He pointed to Hamilton next. "What's-Your-Face, you watch the princess. If she croaks, Reynolds will be furious with me, and I don't need another fucking headache."

Hamilton shot him an agitated glare. "Since when are _you_ the one giving orders?!" she fumed, clenching her sword tighter.

"Since no one else seems to have a fucking plan!" Weaver shot back, returning the glare. The sniper's was nastier.

Hamilton gulped, then nodded.

"And what will you do?" Piña asked him.

Weaver's glare morphed into a cocky smirk. He raised his rifle for her to see.

"These bandit retards have a leader?"

Piña pointed to the bandits' commander, who was still on the wall. Now pinned between the flying steel beasts on the outside and Theta Squad on the inside, he was growing visibly frantic, yelling orders to the remainder of his rapidly dwindling forces.

"The one in the black armor. That's him." Her normally attractive face contorted into a scowl. "I don't know what you're planning with him, and I don't care. Just kill that son of a bitch!"

"With pleasure." Weaver walked over to the railing and took a spot next to O'Nellis. Peering through his rifle scope, he inhaled, then exhaled a deep breath, ready to take his shot. He had a perfect lineup to take the bastard's head clean off his shoulders.

As soon as his finger began to squeeze the trigger, screams and maniacal laughter from down below broke his concentration. Weaver took his eye off the scope and looked down, scowling at the perpetrator.

Rory really gave zero fucks, didn't she? The girl had just finished cleaning up another group of bandits; she stood right beneath his line of sight, giggling to herself, her halberd pointed straight up.

It got him thinking…

Weaver grinned when a truly evil idea came to mind. He aimed the crosshairs at the bandit leader again, but instead of targeting his head, he moved the reticle somewhere lower.

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

The Longshot's distinctive _boom_ resonated over the battlefield, audible even over the Soaring Rednecks' choppers and looping music.

Even more impressive was that the bandit leader's scream when his testicles were blown off was even louder.

He staggered forward, first one step, then two, leaving a bloody trail between his legs. Groaning in agony, he toppled off the side of the wall – and landed right on the spike of Rory's halberd.

"Hm?" The Apostle looked up when she felt a weight get speared onto the end of her weapon.

She also heard sadistic laughter from somewhere nearby, but didn't pay any mind to it.

The bandit leader gasped, coughing a bit of blood onto her face.

"This… is not a real battle!" he gasped hoarsely. "There is… no honor!... No valor! Tell me this isn't a real battle, Priestess of Emroy!"

Rory stared at him blankly.

The man grabbed the blade of her halberd, bloodying his hand. Tears fell from his eyes, mixing with the blood on her cheeks, though the demigoddess still said nothing.

"ANSWER ME, PRIESTESS!"

Rory's "answer" was to slam him to the ground and rip her weapon free.

"Holy shit, that was awesome!" Gyules quipped.

The bandits backed up slowly. They were in shock at the sight of their commander's body; a couple of them dropped to their knees in grievance, while others simply stared, slack-jawed.

"No… The Oracle killed him…!"

"What in the Underworld are we gonna do now?!"

One guy raised his sword. "The only thing we can do, men! Keep fighting in his name! The tide may have turned in the enemy's favor, but we're still standing, and that's enough!"

His rallying cry seemed to bring some of the marauders' hopes back up. The ones on their knees returned to their feet, picking up their weapons. Most of the army's remnants, on the other hand, remained uncertain. How could they possibly stand a chance against the Blue Golems, their flying steel pets, and Rory the Reaper all working together?

The battle inside the walls reached a temporary standstill. While the bandits worked to find their second wind, KR One-Three suddenly flew by overhead, positioning itself above and behind the Gears of Theta.

 _"_ _KR One-Three to Theta Squad, the outside is secure!_ " Skippy messaged the team on an open channel. _"Which means I have almost nothing left to kill! Now get your asses behind cover, 'cause in the count of ten, I'm gonna throw everything I have left at these fuckers in the courtyard!"_

Lieutenant Reynolds didn't need to be told twice.

"Private Gyules, grab Rory and _fucking leg it_!" she hollered, already sprinting to the barricade Dalton was at.

Placing his flamethrower on his back, Gyules obeyed, scooping Rory up in both arms. He repeatedly apologized as she yelled at him to put her down the whole way over to safety.

 _"_ _Ten!... Nine!... Eight!"_

 _"_ _Save your ammo, Staff Sergeant. I've got this covered."_ A rumbling voice suddenly interjected.

Skippy, obviously, wasn't happy at the interruption. _"What the-?! Who the hell are you to deny me my fun!?"_

 _"_ _My name is Master Sergeant Theodore Bare, and I come with a big fucking gun."_

 _"_ _And my name is Private Wesley Hutch."_ Another voice cut in. _"I will assist him in operating said gun."_

Reynolds, Gyules, and Dalton each grinned. They lined up against the side of a wall, allowing Theta Squad's medic and heavy weapons specialist enough room to squeeze by.

"Glad you could join us, guys!" Dalton greeted.

"Bare! You're alive!" Rory squealed. She forcibly removed herself from Gyules' arms and tried to follow after the duo, mesmerized by the colossal weapon in Bare's hands.

Reynolds grabbed her arm and pulled her back, just as Lelei and Tuka arrived at the scene.

"Whoa, don't get too close. It's about to get _really_ noisy over there," she instructed.

"Trust me, getting that close is a bad idea." Tuka added, massaging her ears.

" _Damn, you're right; that IS a big fucking gun."_ Skippy noted from KR One-Three's vantage point. _"In that case, go right ahead! This'll be fun to watch, right Yancy?"_

Bare kicked the flimsy barricade to the side. He entered the plaza with Hutch, surveying the sixty-something bandits still alive.

The grizzled veteran pointed his gatling gun's numerous barrels at the crowd. Before he pulled the trigger, he uttered a single, one-syllable word.

"Die."

The Vulcan Cannon roared to life, unleashing a hail of ammunition so thick it actually threw Bare's aim off for a second after reaching its maximum firing rate. Every sound in the vicinity – from the dozen Ravens and their music to the screams of the weapon's victims – was masked by the massive gun's slew of bullets. It was so loud that Dalton and Gyules were forced to remove their helmets to cover their ears, lest they go deaf from the noise.

The bandits fared far worse. Ten of them were shredded to bloody ribbons in the blink of an eye; seven more fell before they realized they were being attacked and attempted to flee.

Now beyond terrified, several of the remaining brigands turned and ran for the main gate. All that did was get them to bunch up closer, making them easier targets for Bare's Vulcan.

"Hutch, we good on ammo?" he hollered over the cacophony of gunfire and spent shell casings clinking to the pavement.

He thought he saw the medic give a thumbs-up out of the corner of his vision. Good enough, he supposed.

He swept the Vulcan Cannon from one end of the courtyard's boundary to the other, pockmarking the stone walls with bullet holes, spatters of blood, and bits of human flesh. These bandits made the grave mistake of fucking with Teddy Bare, and this… this was their reckoning.

After a nail-biting twenty seconds of nonstop hellfire, the gatling gun slowly spooled down, and eventually stopped firing altogether.

Laying in front of Hutch and Bare was a small sea of bodies. Men with severed limbs and exposed innards. Some were charred to the bone, thanks to Gyules' earlier handiwork. Blood leaked from their broken forms, mixing together to form shallow lake of red. All of their faces were frozen in permanent horror, or at least the ones who still _had_ faces.

Bare set the Vulcan down and slowly stepped forward, taking in the bloodbath. He ignored the wet splashes his boots made each time they hit the ground. What's done is done, he reminded himself.

A low moan from behind reached his ears. Bare swiveled his massive frame around and saw Hutch, kneeled down next to-

"Rory?" he gasped. "Is she okay? What happened?!"

Her small body quivered. She moaned again, and Hutch looked up at him.

"Orgasm." He deadpanned.

Bare didn't know whether to laugh or be seriously creeped out, so he resigned himself to saying nothing. Because of this, he was the first to hear a wet cough from somewhere in the corpse pile.

"What?!" Weaver raged from up on the balcony. "How the fuck is this medieval retard not dead?!"

With titanic effort, the bandit leader lifted himself up off the ground with both hands, then unsteadily climbed to his feet. A huge gash in his chest armor bled profusely; it was clear to all who were watching that he was living on borrowed time.

He pointed one shaking finger at the master sergeant.

"You… You ruined _EVERYTHING_!" he boomed. He spit up a little blood afterwards. "This… was supposed to be my revenge. The Empire betrayed us… you Golems _destroyed_ us… destroyed our pride, our honor, our reasons for living…!"

He bent down and picked up a discarded sword. The crazed man made wobbly steps in Bare's direction, snarling and throwing flecks of spittle everywhere like a rabid animal.

"You are not soldiers… you are not warriors… you aren't even _real people_! Just peasants from another world who should have just ROLLED OVER AND DIED LIKE YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO!"

Bare didn't move as the bandit leader drew closer. When his target was finally within reach, the man put the last of his strength into one good swing, aimed right at the veteran's neck.

"BARE!" O'Nellis screamed.

He missed.

In one fluid motion, Bare ducked under the marauder's blow, grabbed his throat, and choke-slammed him to the ground.

"Holy fuck, dude!" Dalton exclaimed, equally as shocked as his teammates at his comrade's brutal counter.

Bare planted one heavy boot on the wheezing bandit's chest. Reaching to his back, he pulled a sawed-off shotgun out and aimed it at the commander's head.

The commander's eyes widened at the foreign weapon pointed to his face, then narrowed. He coughed up more blood, grinning up at the hulking Gear.

"Do it," he choked out. "You win. Finish the job."

Several tense seconds passed.

…Why was he hesitating? Bare wondered. The man was technically right; the battle was practically finished, and the COG, plus their temporary allies, had won the fight. The enemy leader was at his mercy, already dying and poised for execution. There was nothing stopping him from pulling the trigger and sending this man to the afterlife.

Because he'd be getting off easy, Teddy soon realized. Blowing his brains out would be simple, as well as extremely messy, but it would also be quick and painless. If he pulled the trigger now, there would be no delay, no period of suffering, before his enemy died.

And after everything he'd done? All the innocents he'd killed? All the atrocities he'd committed in his petty quest for vengeance? Bare wanted this man to _suffer_.

"What's the matter?" the dying man taunted. "Have you lost your nerve? Or are you perhaps- _hrk_!"

Bare kicked him so he rolled onto his stomach. He opened the barrels of his shotgun, letting the slugs fall out, then leaned down and wrapped the open breech around the bandit leader's neck.

He lifted the man to his knees, keeping the breech clamped tight on his throat. Gasping for air, scared and unsure of what was happening, the brigand clawed at the shotgun in a futile effort to remove it. The COG veteran's grip, however, was simply too strong.

Bare kicked the bandit leader's back the same time he snapped the gun's barrels back together.

A loud _crack_ signaled the end of the Battle of Italica.

* * *

 **Skippy is what I imagine happens when the Coalition starts running out of competent pilots. Due to how often King Ravens crash in the games, I think I've got a fair argument on that.**

 **It's strange, really. There's so much I want to say about the making of this chapter, but it all flew out of my head the second I finished it. (Probably because it's almost two in the morning right now and I'm tired as fuck.)**

 **Also gonna skip the review answering this time for the above reason. Maybe next time, if I can finish the chapter at a more reasonable hour.**

 **Let me know what you think of this chapter, too. Was it worth the wait? Can we break 100 reviews? Here's hoping!**

 **(3/26/19 edit: Changed the callsign of KR One-Nine to KR One-Three. Turns out KR One-Nine was the Raven that got eaten by the Riftworm in GOW2, which doesn't fit with my master plan.)**


	10. Order

**WARNING: A minor spoiler, but I _am_ keeping in the canon kidnapping scene (though I changed it a bit to make it more believable). It'll help create some interesting context in the beginning of the next chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you. **

**I also wonder if this story will ever be mentioned on TVTropes someday. Food for thought.**

 **Glad to see the Soaring Rednecks and their epic battle music were well-received! I was planning to kill them off further down the line if they weren't, in all honesty. Seems like that won't be necessary.**

 **Good. I like writing Skippy and his insane ramblings.**

 **Before we dive in, I'd like to say one more thing: I'm very much aware of how corny the "evildoers" line in the previous chapter is. It was originally a placeholder line, though I decided to leave it in after a better idea came to me. Time to begin a running joke at a certain otaku's expense…**

* * *

 **(East Gate, Italica)**

The Third Princess of the Empire was torn between crushing relief and unshakable fear.

The siege of Italica was finally over after a harrowing night of fighting. The bandit army was all but eradicated, reduced from a competent force of six hundred former soldiers and other ambitious criminals to only a tiny handful of traumatized survivors. They'd held the upper hand for most of the battle, too – it wasn't until the sun had risen that any real progress was made in bringing their revenge-driven massacre to a halt.

Of course, no battle was won without a price. The casualties on Italica's side, Piña somberly reflected, were far too high. She knew it was only a pyrrhic victory at best.

The young royal paused her stroll with Hamilton along the East Gate's damaged rampart to stare down into the courtyard. A large number of civilians, overseen by Vylus, dragged the mutilated bodies of their friends and neighbors next to one another, then covered the deceased with blankets donated by some of the city's fabrics stores.

Her red eyes lingered over a plain wooden casket intermixed with the bodies. An Imperial flag was draped over it, marking the casket as the final resting place of a knight.

She forced back her tears. She couldn't afford to cry now; not in front of the public. There would be time to properly grieve later.

The sound of whirling rotors close by broke her attention away from Norma's coffin. The rotors blew chilly morning air right into the knights, causing the princess and her attendant to shiver. Wrapping her cape tighter around her body to shield herself from the wind, Piña turned to look at the mechanical beast now hovering next to them.

"I think it sees us," Hamilton fearfully exclaimed.

 _"_ _Hot damn, Yancy! Have you ever laid eyes on a finer pair of young ladies before?"_ Staff Sergeant "Skippy" asked his co-pilot.

 _"_ _Can't say I have, sir. The one on the right's pretty gosh-darn cute, if I do say so m'self."_

 _"_ _Mm-hmm. And the one on the left? See the way her armor outlines her body? Damn, those are some nice curves. And that hair! It's my favorite color – fresh blood red! Sweet Lord above, I thought I couldn't pop another stiffy this big after the slaughterfest earlier, but- Wait, are the loudspeakers on? Oh SHIT-!"_

KR One-Three quickly flew away after that little blunder. Thankfully for Skippy and Yancy, neither knight understood a word of their conversation; if they did, they would've been rightfully mortified.

That didn't mean they weren't still scared shitless.

And that was where Piña's fear became evident. Even though the bandits were dead, it wasn't the Rose Knights or Italica's militia who defeated them. The real victors of the battle were the Blue Golems, their ally Rory Mercury, and the talking aerial beasts they apparently summoned to their aid through unknown means.

Those creatures were the strangest things she'd ever seen, she mused as she watched nine of the King Ravens continue to buzz around the East Gate's airspace. Probably the strangest things anyone in Falmart had ever seen, she soon rectified, noticing Hamilton's uncertain expression when she finally removed her eyes from the sky.

"Flying horses of steel… How can those even exist?" Piña wondered aloud. "No soldier or army can match such a level of force… The power they wield can eradicate _everything_ … No pride, no glory, _nothing_ left in their wake…"

Hamilton nervously fidgeted in place. It was clear her fellow Rose Knight was only now beginning to grasp the enormity of the situation they'd gotten into, even after Italica's liberation. "Princess, what should we do now?"

Piña made direct eye contact with her page. It took a huge amount of effort to swallow her pride – and the bile creeping up her throat at the mere thought of what she was about to suggest.

"The Blue Golems stopped those bandits, Hamilton. Every last one of them is either dead or soon to be." She gestured outside with one hand. The other three metal beasts had landed and were resting on the ground, faithfully guarded by their Gear masters. Several small teams were now scouring the outside battlefield for survivors and possible prisoners of war.

Judging by how often their bizarre staves went off, the princess assumed they weren't too interested in taking prisoners.

"It's beyond obvious to me now that the Golems' mastery of dark sorcery isn't something we can defeat conventionally," she went on. "They can harness the breath of dragons and weaponize it for themselves. They can create explosions in the blink of an eye. And do you remember the pair that killed off the last of the bandits? I believe it was a pagan summoning device, used to manifest some type of spiritual magic that can tear apart the human body."

Hamilton cupped a hand under her chin in thought, nodding slowly. "That makes a degree of sense, I suppose. Or as least as much sense as anything makes when dealing with the Blue Golems." She then pointed skyward. "But then how did they tame those great metal beasts?"

"My guess would be shamanism, but that's not the point I'm trying to make." Piña sighed and rubbed her forehead, trying to dispel the oncoming headache. She was a princess, for the gods' sake, not a scholar on the occult. Especially when the practitioners themselves came from another world. "Hamilton… I'm afraid I have no other choice. I'm going to surrender."

Admirably, the brunette didn't freak out or faint or anything similar. All she did was blink twice and make a small noise of confusion. "S-Surrender?! But aren't we the victors in this battle?" she queried.

Piña shook her head, sighing again. "No. If Rory Mercury and the Blue Golems hadn't intervened when they did, we would all be dead."

Or raped, or enslaved, or some disgusting combination of the three. No point in saying that part out loud, though.

"Although I made mistakes yesterday, I intend to keep my word. The enemy is defeated and Italica is safe. I promised the COG peace, and if surrendering to them is what it takes to make that happen, then I've no regrets."

"Good, because I haven't forgotten how you tried to kill us last night."

 _Now_ Hamilton freaked out. Both knights spun to see a familiar blond Gear approaching them, flanked on her left by the blue-haired Lindonite mage.

Reynolds stopped a few feet away from them, fixing her cold blue eyes on Piña's red ones. The stony frown she wore didn't help matters. "You should count yourself extremely lucky that we still decided to help after all the crap you put us through, _Your Highness_. Even luckier that I've decided not to drag you back to Alnus and put you on trial for conspiracy to commit murder!"

"You think you're the only ones who have been through a lot recently?!"

The princess and the officer both winced at the sudden outburst, surprised by who it came from. Hamilton took several deep breaths, repeatedly clenching and unclenching her fists as she fumed, and sent Reynolds a determined glare that Piña didn't think was possible from the young page.

"This is part of our home that got attacked! We lost a lot of good people these past few days! Norma… Norma _died_ last night defending this city, and you have the nerve to claim that _you're_ the ones suffering?!" Hamilton's eye twitched with rage. "How dare you! And if I recall correctly, I seem to remember you and your soldiers agreeing to work under the Imperial Princess' command! If you had such a huge issue with that, then you could've just left us to fend for ourselves, but you didn't! You stayed and you fought! So how in the Underworld is it _our_ fault for also wanting to protect our people?!"

She finally ended her tirade, still breathing heavily. None of the other three women spoke, still in complete shock that the normally meek and polite Hamilton would raise her voice like that.

Soon noticing that all eyes were on her, Hamilton reflexively stood up straight, lowering her eyes to her feet.

"Um… I… M-My apologies. I don't know what came over me just then," she softly confessed.

It was Lelei who came to her rescue. "If I could offer my own opinion, I think it made sense for the princess to deploy us right where she expected the majority of the fighting to take place." She looked up to meet Reynolds' eyes. "Your squad was capable of repelling every enemy inside the East Gate's walls, and the South Gate never once faltered even without your presence. Plus, we had the Oracle Rory Mercury on our side. She counts as a small army by herself."

The mage turned her stare to Piña. "And I'm sure her Royal Majesty was made aware of the COG's combat capabilities even before the siege. When you factor it all in, I'm starting to think the princess' intentions were less out of malice, and more out of desperation. She simply lacked other options in her given situation."

Piña inwardly thanked this little mage girl with all her heart for unwittingly providing her a way out. It took all her self-composure not to smile in relief.

"Well? Is Lelei wrong to believe this, Princess?" Reynolds was watching her too, boring into her soul with that piercing gaze of hers.

"N-No! No, she explained it perfectly!" the redhead hurriedly exclaimed. She clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture. "Please, you must understand. I believed from the start that you and your soldiers wouldn't perish so easily-"

That was a lie.

"-and if you had an opportunity to use one enemy force to bear the brunt of another, wouldn't you have done the same thing?" She unclasped her hands, switching to a more formal posture. "Please, I understand your anger, but you must also understand that my options were very limited. Now that it's all over, however, I will gladly see to my end of the bargain."

Reynolds folded her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"You sound a lot more eager to make peace now than you did yesterday," the foreign officer noted.

"After seeing firsthand what your soldiers are capable of, it would be foolish of me to pass on this chance." Piña replied.

She meant it sincerely, too. Her father and Brother Zorzal were far too full of themselves to believe in the possibility of nations more powerful than the Empire existing, and Brother Diabo would've schemed to backstab the Blue Golems at some point in the future if he were in his sister's place and if it suited his interests.

By contrast, Piña knew when she was faced with impossible odds. Last night was the perfect example.

Reynolds visibly mulled over everything they'd just discussed. After a few moments of contemplation, the squad leader approached Piña and jabbed a finger right beneath the princess' collarbone.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Princess Piña," she said a low, dangerous tone. "I don't like you. I don't like you one fucking bit. I used to have dreams of becoming a princess myself when I was a little girl… but if being a princess means becoming a scheming little rat in service of some power-hungry Emperor, then I'd gladly take the life I have now instead, dangerous as it is."

She turned and walked away before Piña could give a rebuttal, beckoning for Lelei to follow her. Before she got out of earshot, though, she gave one last parting warning to the Rose Knights.

"If you or your entourage try anything funny again, I _will_ place you all under arrest, and you _will_ stand trial for war crimes. That's not a threat; that's a promise."

* * *

 **(Courtyard)**

In an ironic twist, Private Alec Dalton felt more out of place now, surrounded by fellow Gears, than he did when he first set foot in Italica.

A good number of the Soaring Rednecks' non-essential crew rappelled down into the city after it was deemed secure, and were now busy assisting the local population with the clean-up efforts. Most of it involved disposing of bodies and clearing rubble, but it was enough to keep them all occupied.

Apparently, the bandits' corpses (and any dismembered body parts) were to be placed in one big pile outside and burned later. Dalton wouldn't have given them the honor of a proper burial either, if he were honest with himself.

Theta Squad was split into three groups to further assist. Reynolds, Hutch, Lelei, and Tuka took care of wounded civilians, helped out by a few other Gears and locals with basic medical know-how. Weaver, O'Nellis, and Gyules, along with the bulk of the groundside Rednecks, were sent to comb the East Gate's perimeter for surviving bandits. They were under orders to bring the healthier ones back as prisoners, or kill them out of mercy if they were too far gone to be saved.

Dalton was supposed to join Bare and Rory on their trip back to the South Gate, after the former voiced concerns that some of the proximity grenade traps they'd planted there yesterday might not have gone off. The last thing they wanted was for some wayward civvie to get blown up.

The problem: Rory had quite literally thrown him out of the Packhorse, citing that she had "a promise to keep" and didn't want the private to get involved.

Bare tried to convince her that it was okay to let him come, but the priestess was adamant in her refusal. The older man apologized to Dalton, claiming EOD wasn't all that interesting anyway and how there were plenty of other things to do instead, like guard the civilians.

 _Guard them from what?_ Dalton wondered as he surveyed the bustling plaza. The bandits were all dead or captured, and there was nothing around that Battle Group 4 couldn't handle on their own.

He sighed. This was only slightly more interesting than the last time he did guard duty. Compared to all the crazy shit he'd gone through since the Gate opened, the job felt far less satisfying than it did before.

Perhaps because of his boredom, he watched Lieutenant Reynolds excuse herself and Lelei and ascend the ramparts a little while earlier. He watched when they returned a few minutes later, and kept watching as Princess Piña descended shortly afterward, departing the courtyard on her own with her head held low.

 _…_ _Should I do something about that?_

He hesitated, taking another look around. Everything seemed like it was under control, and he honestly doubted anyone would notice if he wandered off for a bit.

His mind made up, Dalton left his post to follow after the princess.

* * *

 **(East Gate Perimeter)**

"I FOUND A LIVE ONE!"

 _CRACK!_

"God dammit, Pembrook! Did you at least check to see if he could be saved first?"

"…Well, I mean, there's no point now…"

Faith O'Nellis shook her head and sighed at the Soaring Rednecks' antics. The more time she spent in their company, the more convinced she became that most of their members came with only two settings: "sleep" and "kill".

"Remember when I said it was fucked up how Rory gets aroused by killing? I'm starting to think this bunch is even worse." She said to her companions.

"They're thorough, I'll give 'em that." Sergeant Weaver replied with a light shrug. He holstered his Snub pistol to light another one of his beloved cancer sticks. "Took me a while to remember, but I've seen the Rednecks in battle before. Merciless group, lemme tell ya. Even the grubs are smart enough to crawl back into their holes when they hear Kipp start ranting."

"Really? When was this?" As far as O'Nellis knew, she and Vinnie went on every mission together since graduation.

The ex-convict paused to blow a smoke cloud. "Estana."

She snapped her fingers. "Oh, right, when we were separated during the evacuation. I thought I heard music-"

A gunshot cut her off.

Sniper and spotter turned around. Private Gyules stared back at them with his pistol in hand. At his feet, a bandit with missing legs laid still.

"…He moved."

The way he said it, so quiet and toneless, made the corporal feel concerned. Gyules had been acting differently now that the siege was broken and the excitement of combat wore off. Upon further reflection, O'Nellis realized this was the first time he'd spoken since the battle ended.

Perhaps the reality of his actions last night finally caught up to him. He _did_ burn a lot of people to death, after all. Locust were one thing – those bandits were fellow humans, even if they came from a different world.

"Want to head back to the city, Private?" she offered. "Vinnie and I can handle things out here. Wouldn't be an issue."

Gyules immediately shook his head. "I'm fine. Just… thinking too much into it, I guess. Needed to remind myself that these assholes had it coming."

"Attaboy, Weeb!" Vinnie cheerfully exclaimed, spinning on his heel and resuming his stride. "Always best not to dig too deep into morality and shit. Now keep your eyes peeled; there could be more evildoers lying in ambush out here."

O'Nellis rolled her eyes under her mask, even as she slowed her own pace to match Gyules'.

Dismissive as his advice sounded, he wasn't wrong. She'd been in a similar spot after the first battle of Alnus Hill. Horrified at the staggering number of men they'd killed, she hadn't spent the aftermath celebrating with the rest of the COG, but inside a tent instead, crying into Vinnie's arms about the pointlessness of it all.

It wasn't her proudest moment as a soldier, but it was understandable nonetheless.

Gyules, meanwhile, scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Shit… You overheard that, didn't you?"

"Weeb, I'm pretty sure half the city heard your stupid battle cry." Weaver glanced back at him with a cruel smirk. "Pfft. 'Evildoers'? Just when I thought you couldn't get any weirder."

"I got caught up in the heat of the moment, okay?!" the private argued, growing increasingly flustered.

"I thought it was kind of cute," O'Nellis said reassuringly.

"I thought it was dumb."

"No one asked you, Vinnie!"

Honestly, what was with him incessantly picking on Gyules? The guy was an oddball, sure, but he was far from incompetent, and probably the most chipper Gear on the team to boot. The only thing he did wrong was make himself an easy target for Vinnie's mockery.

The sniper slowed his own pace to walk side by side with them. He glanced at Faith, frowning slightly.

"…You mad at me?"

"Yes. Now shut up and keep looking for survivors. You too, Private." O'Nellis quickened her stride, ignoring Weaver's call to her and subsequent half-assed apology.

After all that transpired last night, especially after he pissed off Bare, she was _not_ in the mood for his antics right now.

Gyules gave no further reaction to her partner's mockery, which didn't surprise her. In the few weeks they'd spent as squadmates, she'd observed that he rarely paid much long-term attention to anything except his friends, his hobbies, and his life's goals (which, from what little she knew, involved catgirls and something about Berserkers).

She honestly envied his simple outlook on life. Fight for the Coalition, explore the Special Region, and have fun while doing so. Everything else didn't matter as much. No worrying about the future, or having to drag his best friend out of trouble whenever he ticked off the wrong people.

That being said, it didn't mean he was ignorant to the gravity of certain situations, or immune to criticism. His somber mood before Vinnie started teasing him, as well as his reaction afterward, proved that.

Her mental musings were rudely interrupted by a loud exclamation in the distance.

"HERE'S ONE!"

Cue the gunshot.

O'Nellis breathed an exasperated sigh. Seriously, who gave the go-ahead to let these helicopter-flying hillbillies loose in the new world? There was a good reason why Chairman Prescott preferred to keep them on a tight leash.

She silently continued walking for a couple more minutes, Weaver and Gyules still trailing behind her. Then, as if some divine cosmic force got a kick out of making her day miserable, she tripped over a dead bandit.

Or not so dead, if the feminine cry accompanying the spotter's loud curse was any indication.

"Faith! You okay? Are you hurt?" Vinnie was by her side in a flash, hooking an arm around her back and under her shoulders to help her up.

 _And there's that chivalrous side he reserves only for me…_

"Vinnie, relax. I'm fine. I just wasn't paying attention to-" O'Nellis' words died in her throat when she looked down at the sniveling girl at her feet. It took several moments for her to process what she was seeing, and when she finally did, all she could blurt out was an inelegant, "What the hell is that thing?!"

Curled up in a ball on the ground, bleeding between her fingers as she clutched one hand over a bullet wound on her left arm, was what the Kashkuri woman could only describe as a human-bird-hybrid… _thing_. She was young for a bandit, likely around the princess' age or a bit older, with verdant feathers substituting for her hair. Her most striking feature, and what really made the corporal lose her composure, was her legs; they were replaced at her calves by birds' legs, ending in sharp talons for feet. More green feathers extended from her knees up to the middle of her thighs.

The three Gears couldn't help but stare in awe for short while. They knew an assortment of demi-humans also called the Special Region home – Tuka and the Imperial Army's goblins were proof of that – though this girl was bizarre enough to finally drive home how diverse in species this new world really was.

It was Vinnie who broke the prolonged silence.

"Private, use your weeb knowledge and enlighten us on what this is." He ordered.

"For the last time, it's _otaku_. And… I dunno, some kind of harpy?" Gyules rested a finger under his helmeted chin. "I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. More importantly, what was she doing with a bunch of bandits?"

O'Nellis got down to her knees and gently rested a hand on the avian girl's shoulder, taking care to avoid aggravating her injury.

"Hey… can you understand?" she asked, switching to the Special Region tongue. She still wasn't great at speaking it, but she was getting better.

The girl glanced in her direction and immediately blanched, then tried to hide her head in the crook of her other arm. The corporal leaned in closer and heard light sobbing.

"P-Please… Please d-don't kill me! My job was just to deflect arrows! He- He said I'd be safe, and that he'd deal with the Blue Golems when they showed up…" She hiccupped and winced, clutching her wounded arm tighter. "Oh gods… Oh gods, it hurts…!"

O'Nellis moved her hand and began stroking the girl's feathers. "Shh… Will be okay. You are in no danger. What is your name?"

The young bandit froze when she felt the other woman's hand on her head, though she gradually loosened up when she realized there was no hostile intent behind the action. "M-Myuute… My name is Myuute Luna Sires…" She hiccupped again.

"Do not worry. We not kill you, Myuute." O'Nellis promised her.

Yet another gunshot sounded, followed by barely audible scolding.

"The Rednecks, on the other hand…" Vinnie trailed off, tossing his spent cigarette away.

The poor bird girl, Myuute, balled up further and started to openly cry. O'Nellis continued to stoke her "hair", whispering calming words of reassurance to the traumatized survivor.

It felt… right, somehow, offering her aid to this lost girl. She must have had her reasons for aligning herself with the bandits; contrary to what most of the Soaring Rednecks seemed to believe, Faith didn't think every one of them deserved immediate execution as punishment. Myuute at least deserved a chance to explain herself before a verdict was issued.

Granted, the verdict might've still been death, but… it was better to be hopeful.

"Do not worry," she repeated. "We will help you. Trust me. Come with us inside Italica, and we will give medicine."

Myuute peeked one watery brown eye out from under her arm. "You… promise?" she whispered.

O'Nellis nodded. "I promise."

"Okay…"

The spotter helped Myuute to her feet. It was a slow process, with the younger woman still being in a slight state of shock from suffering a gunshot wound, but they managed it. Once she was upright, O'Nellis handed her over to Gyules; being the most well-built of the three, he was the best choice to help the now hopefully ex-bandit support her weight.

"Try to hide that tent in your pants, weeb." Vinnie jeered.

"Shut it, jailbird."

"I never wanted to kill anybody. Hurt them, maybe, but not kill," Myuute muttered, letting her eyes drift to her clawed feet as the group walked back to the city's eastern entrance. "Even if he ordered me to, I wouldn't have gone inside. I couldn't stomach the thought of watching all the death…"

O'Nellis didn't know what to make of that. While she wanted to help the girl, there was no possibility that Myuute's actions would go unpunished. Her fate now rested in the hands of the COG's top brass.

* * *

 **(South Gate Perimeter)**

"Oh, look! I see another one!" Rory Mercury raised one pale finger to point out the explosive device half-buried near Italica's southern wall.

Master Sergeant Bare's response was a burst of rifle fire followed by a satisfying kaboom.

"Good eyes, Rory," he complimented his companion as the two of them moved on to the next site.

Explosive ordinance disposal, or EOD for short, was normally an extremely hazardous and time-consuming process. With the discovery of Imulsion on Sera and its inevitable weaponization, the COG was forced to develop new disposal tactics to counter UIR-made explosives containing the volatile substance over the course of the Pendulum Wars. Those tactics continued to come in handy even after the conflict ended, since it wasn't uncommon to find undetonated grenades, bombs, and sometimes missiles left over in deserted battlefields or even the occasional city.

The war dragged on for almost eighty years, after all. Bare would've been more surprised if fucktons of dangerous toys _hadn't_ been left lying around.

In most cases, explosives were meant to be safely diffused without setting them off. Assault Derricks, in particular, came with an array of sensors, scanners, and other equipment that helped their drivers detect any hazardous materials in the vicinity. Once a bomb's location was pinpointed, the disposal team would x-ray the device to determine its internal mechanisms and how it was set off. Finally, a reconfigured JACK bot outfitted with specialized tools was deployed to diffuse the bomb while the operators kept a safe distance away.

All in all, it was a safe and reliable method, if a bit lengthy.

The catch: Bare didn't have access to a Rig and a robot buddy. All he had were his guns and Rory, and he wasn't about to risk letting her wander near a live grenade trap, superhuman powers or no. Also, he actually wasn't all that skilled in EOD despite having dealt with plenty of bombs over the course of his extensive service career.

Detonating them with gunfire would have to do. And it was working great so far, especially since the South Gate was practically deserted, leaving him and Rory to carry out their task without disturbance.

In truth, the grenade traps were never meant to kill off any large number of bandits. They were planted to alert the squad in case the marauders tried to sneak over another section of the wall.

Only five of the dozen they'd set up went off, but they'd served their purpose beautifully.

He paused when he saw another grenade lodged between two loose bricks. A quick burst from his Lancer later, and any danger the explosive placed was gone – along with a chunk of the wall around it. Ah, who the fuck cared at this point.

"Ooh, how delightful!" Rory beamed and clapped her hands, grinning like a kid in a candy store. "The brief yet profound sound of the explosion, the resulting shockwave rippling over my body… The COG is truly a master of warfare!"

"Heh. I'll take that as a compliment."

She didn't know the half of it, Bare thought with morbid amusement. The humans of Sera had been at war ever since they discovered throwing rocks at each other hurts.

"I meant it as one." Rory smiled up at him, keeping pace with her favorite Gear as they continued their sweep of the area. "I am Emroy's chosen Apostle after all, or did you forget? Plus, it's been a _very_ long time since I've last experienced the same pleasures as last night…"

Was she referring to his massacre with the Vulcan basically overloading her with souls? Or did she simply get a kick out of making him feel uncomfortable? Bare concluded that he was probably better off not knowing the answer to either question, so instead he steered the conversation to a different topic.

"If you say so… Anyway, about this whole 'Apostle' thing. How'd you get that title, anyway?"

He also wanted to ask if it had anything to do with her superhuman abilities, but that could wait until later if needed. It was more polite to start from the beginning and let her explain at her own pace from there.

She snapped her fingers. "Ah yes, our deal! Yes, I did promise to explain more about myself if you survived, didn't I? My apologies; our current task is wonderfully distracting!"

Rory darted in front of the towering soldier and turned to face him, spreading her arms out wide to cut him off. Her enigmatic smile grew when Teddy stopped in his tracks.

"Tell me, Master Sergeant Bare… how old do you think I am?"

Bare raised a brow under his helmet. He failed to see what that had to do with anything. "Umm… I dunno, thirteen?"

"Wrong. I am nine-hundred sixty-one."

"Weeks old?"

"Years old, silly. I'm immortal."

Well, there went the only logical explanation to her claim. There were a lot of things he could have said in response, ranging from skeptical to joking or even believing, though all he managed in the end was utter a simple, "Huh."

Rory lowered her arms to her sides, lips curling to a frown. "I thought that revelation would have gotten a bigger reaction out of you. How disappointing."

"Mostly because it still doesn't answer my question," he pointed out. "And just because I didn't react the way you expected doesn't mean I automatically believe you. The human brain isn't built to handle immortality. You would've gone insane a long time ago."

The way her frown instantly changed back to a grin unsettled him.

"Who says I didn't? I remember losing my sanity around my one-hundred thirtieth birthday, when the reality of my situation finally settled in…" A thoughtful expression graced her features. "The next fifty or so years are a bit of a blur. All I can recall is that massive amounts of blood were spilled during that period."

"O-kaayyy…" Because _that_ little nugget of information didn't make every hair on his body stand on end; no sir. "…What changed?"

Rory gave a casual shrug. "Insanity got boring after a while."

Bare needed to remind himself, multiple times, that this was Rory he was conversing with and that nothing about the girl (woman?) was strictly "normal". After seeing her superhuman battle prowess firsthand, learning that she was also immortal didn't faze him as much as it might have before.

Honestly, ever since the whole dragon encounter, he didn't think anything in this world could surprise him like that anymore.

"Indeed, it was difficult adjusting to demi-godhood at first," Rory sighed wistfully.

Never mind.

Thankfully, the raven-haired girl (or woman… fuck it, she looked like a girl, so that's what he'd call her) noticed she'd just dropped a bombshell as big as a Lightmass Missile.

"Oh, you didn't know that, did you?" she said in a way that made it impossible to tell if she was teasing him. She idly twirled her halberd, which she'd kept in hand the whole time, humming in contemplation while she did so. "Does this bother you?"

Did it? It helped explain most, if not all of the strange things about her: her powers, her keen intellect, and her apparent high status among the people of this world. He'd often wondered why Koda Village's refugees treated her with such reverence, and now he had an answer.

If what she said was true – if she really _was_ an immortal demigoddess – then Rory Mercury was potentially one of the most dangerous beings in either world. And she'd chosen to live with the refugees on Alnus Hill. She'd chosen to accompany Theta Squad on their outings, and chosen to follow Bare specifically because she'd developed some kind of interest in him.

He shuddered at the thought of what could happen if she ever went rogue. How did the COG neutralize someone who couldn't die?

Would it ever come to that?

The veteran Gear stared at the girl for several long moments. Rory stared back at him, eagerly awaiting his response. She looked so young and innocent; a stark contrast to the immortal killer she claimed to be.

"Not really," he said at last. "As long as you don't suddenly turn on us, it doesn't bother me what you are."

She nodded, making a small noise of approval. "It pleases me to hear that. And don't worry; the COG has nothing to fear from me. Truth be told, the refugee camp at Alnus Hill is beginning to feel like… well, a home."

That was good to know. After an apocalyptic war with subterranean monsters on one world, and getting invaded by medieval conquerors from another, it was a relief to learn that one of the Coalition's few allies was actually death incarnate. It was funny, in an ironic sort of way.

"So I'm guessing when this Emroy guy chose you to be his apostle, it also ended up making you a demigod," he surmised. "What exactly did you do to get his attention? Must've been something important."

"It was," Rory confirmed. She fidgeted in place, looking oddly uncomfortable all of a sudden. "I apologize, Master Sergeant, but that story brings back some unpleasant memories. All I'll tell you is that it involved a quarrel with the followers of Zufumut, the God of Light. It was… a time of hardship, as I'm sure you can imagine."

He raised a hand to stop her. "Say no more. I won't be offended if you don't want to talk about it." It seemed even demigods could have skeletons in the closet, he figured. Bare was no stranger to those; after all, there was a reason he preferred not to talk much about himself. "Though I'm getting the feeling there's more to your condition than you've told me so far. Am I wrong?"

Rory shook her head.

"Is it something you'd rather discuss later?"

"Depends on if you can get me intoxicated enough," she giggled.

He settled on taking that as a "maybe". Nodding down to the Apostle, he stepped around her and readied his Lancer, prepared to resume his sweep of the South Gate. As enlightening as their talk was, there was still work to do.

After ten minutes of walking and three more detonated grenades, a sudden though occurred to Bare. He looked back at his companion. "Hey, Rory."

"Hm?"

"Does anyone else in the COG know you're really a demigoddess?"

She nodded happily. "Indeed! Your Captain Mayweather has been made aware, as has the rest of your military's 'top brass'. This also includes your squad leader and medic."

Bare wasn't surprised to find out Mayweather knew, though he was slightly intrigued to learn that two of his squadmates were in on the loop. "Hold up a sec. You're saying that Reynolds and Hutch knew about you the entire time, and didn't bother telling the rest of us?"

"It was mostly Hutch's idea," she replied, shrugging. "He insisted it was better that as few of your people as possible learn there's a demigoddess wandering among them. He said it might cause 'civil unrest'." She made air quotes with her free hand, a habit she'd picked up during her stay at Alnus. "Also, he was adamant in maintaining what he called 'doctor-patient confidentiality'."

Typical Hutch, the veteran thought with a smirk.

If the COG wanted to keep Rory's true nature a secret, at least for now, then he had no objections. Most Gears at base had already discovered she was a supernaturally gifted priestess by now anyway, and the revelation that she was a divine being didn't really change much in the grand scheme of things. If anything, she actually appeared indifferent to her situation.

Still, Bare had to wonder what else the Reaper wasn't telling him.

* * *

 **(Italica Streets, near the East Gate)**

He found her seated on a flight of steps at the foot of a deserted marketplace. She was staring at her armored boots with a pensive frown, resting her chin in one hand, lost in her thoughts and completely oblivious to the world around her.

It dawned on the rookie soldier that he had zero ideas on what to do from here.

 _Okay. There she is. What do I do now?_ Private Dalton wondered to himself. _Do I sit down next to her? Call out to her from here? Should I jump straight to asking if she's okay, or do I need to make some formal greeting first? How the hell do I properly talk to royalty, anyway?_

Ah, screw it. He decided to just wing it and say the first words that came to mind.

"Uhh… fair greetings, Your Majesty."

Princess Piña lifted her head while Dalton mentally kicked himself.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-!_

"Oh. It's you." Her voice sounded as exhausted as she looked. "Have you come to deliver another threat from Reynolds? Or did Grey start panicking when he noticed I'd left his sight? Either way, tell whoever sent you that I wish to be alone for now."

Even with his face-covering helmet, Dalton forced himself to look her in the eye and not let his vision wander any lower. The way she was slouched over where she sat gave him a tempting view of that wonderful cleavage.

Her ruby eyes were duller than he remembered them. In that moment, she looked less like the princess of an empire, and more like a tired warrior on the verge of losing all hope.

"I came on my own. To check on you," he informed her. He stepped closer to the royal, stopping adjacent to her right side. "…Mind if I take a seat?"

Piña returned her gaze to the ground. She wrung her hands, visibly thinking. "…I suppose not. This is a public space, after all."

"Thanks."

The private sighed as he took a seat on the hard cobblestone stairs, then removed his helmet, carefully laying it down opposite of Piña. He took a deep breath, sighing as he let the fresh Special Region air cool off his face.

Piña glanced at him but didn't say anything. Good – Dalton's plan to have a meaningful one-on-one conversation with her was still missing several critical steps.

For beginners… what would he talk to her about, anyway? Last night's battle? She'd wandered away from the East Gate without letting her knights know first, and apparently for no other purpose than to sulk in private. So obviously she didn't want to be reminded of it; especially not by someone who was supposed to be her enemy. Should he ask about her family and upbringing? No, there was a proper time and place for that, and this definitely wasn't it.

Should he say something about himself? That didn't seem like a good option either. So what was left? What else could he say to hopefully break the ice between them?

 _Guess I'll wing it again. Whatever I say can't be any dumber than "fair greetings"._

"Lovely weather we're having."

 _FUCK!_

Still oblivious to the young Gear screaming inside his mind, Piña shot him another glance, though her expression changed from one full of regret and sorrow to… something he couldn't really identify. "Yes… I suppose it is. Now that the smoke has dispersed and the fires are put out, it feels like last night happened an eternity ago." She looked away from him. "Although I doubt this will be an experience I'll ever forget…"

Holy shit, he might actually be onto something. He had to probe deeper. "Yeah, me neither. I've only been in a handful of battles before, but this one… it's one of the most memorable, that's for sure."

He made a point not to specifically mention the Imperial invasion of Jacinto. Or the battle at Alnus Hill. Or the second battle at Alnus Hill. Anything involving the Special Region was off the list, really.

Piña sighed. "Yes. It's too bad not all of us lived to learn from it…"

It clicked. Just like that, Dalton figured out where the root of her sullen mood originated. He'd seen the young knight among the deceased militiamen; it only made sense for the princess to be shaken up after losing someone important to her in her first battle. Similarly, fresh recruits in the Coalition Army often never expected to lose their enlisted friends and loved ones so early in their careers, if at all.

The Lightmass Offensive was his and Rudy's first time out in the field. Randy's death had been more than just a tragedy, it was also a wake-up call: anyone could die at any time.

No exceptions.

"I'm sorry about your friend," he told her sincerely.

 _That_ got a noticeable effect. She swiveled her head to face him, eyes wide and mouth hung slightly ajar.

"Wh-What… What did you just say?!" she stammered out.

"You've never seen death until now, haven't you?" His voice, which he tried to keep neutral, was still tinged with compassion and sympathy. The young private couldn't stop himself from pitying her. "You learned the hard way that fighting isn't as glamorous as the stories make it out to be. Survival's never guaranteed. And even if you do make it out, your friends might not. But you still think you could've done something differently and gotten everyone through it alive, am I right?"

She nodded slowly, sniffing back tears.

"Please don't dwell on that," he told her simply. "You did the best you could, and it's too late to change anything. The most you can do now is keep moving forward and not let your friend's death be in vain. I barely knew him, but I don't think he'd want you to give up hope."

They sat in silence afterwards as Piña mulled over his advice. Over a minute passed before she spoke again.

"…You've lost people before."

 _Hidden in the cellar/Shivering in the dark/Eyes shut tight/Hands over his ears/It wasn't enough/He could still hear it/Still hear the crackling flames/The roars/The screams/MOM-!_

"I have," he said slowly. "I think everybody lost someone close to them when the Locust attacked."

She gave him a quizzical look. "The… 'Locust'?"

Dalton froze.

Oh. _Shit_. He did _not_ just accidentally reveal the biggest threat to both worlds in front of the goddamn princess.

The Locust Horde's existence wasn't technically classified information, per se, though there was sort of a mutual agreement among Alnus Station's personnel that the Special Region inhabitants were better off not knowing about the grubs. If they were ever made aware of just how dangerous the world beyond the gate was, who knew what kind of mass panic it could cause?

Besides, Piña was having enough difficulty coping after barely surviving one form of hell. Revealing too much about the COG's archenemy right now could mentally break her.

He chose his next words with utmost care.

"The Locust are a… problem, back in our world. Forgive me, Your Highness; it's hard to explain, and telling you about them so soon after what happened last night wouldn't be a good idea." He rubbed his forehead and sighed, still chastising himself for his slip-up. "What I _can_ say is that friendly cooperation with your Empire would go a long way towards solving the problem."

"You haven't led me astray yet, so I'll take your word for it, but you're being oddly cryptic about what these Locust are." Piña pointed out. Her pretty face grew serious. "Are they something the Empire should worry about?"

"Yes. Or… maybe? I honestly don't know." Dalton sighed again. "Look, just focus on the peace treaty and let my world handle its own issues. I'm done talking about this."

"If you insist…"

She removed her gaze from him. He felt bad about shrugging off her questions like that. Piña was a member of the Empire's ruling family, so of course she'd want to know if there were other potential threats to her kingdom.

Unfortunately for her, if the Imperial Army stood no chance against the already weakened COG, they'd have no better luck with the Locust Horde. The only ways her people could help would be through non-military means, and that meant staying out of the Coalition's way and letting their soldiers work unhindered.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. The Locust are just a really touchy subject, for me and a lot of other Gears." He soon apologized.

Piña shook her head. "No apology needed. You know more about the workings of your own world than I do." She met his eyes again, and Dalton noted how a bit of the fire in her crimson orbs had returned. "But please, if these 'Locust' risk becoming an issue for the Empire, make me aware. I am not just a princess; I am also a soldier like you. We both have obligations to protect the innocent."

"You'll be the first to know." Dalton nodded with a smile.

The redhead nodded back, managing to pull together a tiny smile of her own.

Whoa. If she was a ten out of ten before, that smile propelled her up to a twenty.

Determined not to let her see the heat rising to his cheeks, Dalton grabbed his helmet and put it back on, then stood up to stretch. "I'm gonna head back to the East Gate. Care to come with me, or do you still need some alone time?"

"I think I'm well enough to resume my responsibilities." Piña extended a hand to him and waited patiently.

Was she…? Oh, _hell to the yes_.

Face on fire under his helmet, Dalton gently grabbed the offered hand and pulled the princess to her feet. Even after he let go of it, he felt a lingering tingling feeling run up his arm.

"Thank you for checking on me, Pry-vit Dalton. That was very kind of you." Piña said as they started the walk back to the plaza.

"Uh, yeah, of course. Happy to help. It's what I do," Dalton laughed awkwardly. Deciding to test his luck further, he asked her, "Hey, um, Princess? About your friend… what was he like?"

She snickered. "You mean Norma? Biggest skirt-chaser in the Order. He was only interested in becoming a knight to impress the women, which might be why they always beat him senseless during our sword fighting drills." Her posture loosened a little, and she looked up at the open sky, smiling wistfully. "That doesn't mean he was incompetent, however. He displayed remarkable talent in matters of true importance. Why, there was a time back when we were fifteen…"

While he tried his best to focus on the story, Dalton's thoughts momentarily drifted elsewhere:

 _WOOOOOO_ _Alec you sly dog! Look at you, getting in good with the princess! I'm not hopeless after all, HAHAHA SUCK ON THAT GRANDPA!_

* * *

 **(Formal Mansion, Three Hours Later)**

Once the East Gate was deemed secure enough to no longer require oversight from either faction's leadership, a small group consisting of Piña, Hamilton, Reynolds, Dalton, Hutch, and Lelei headed back to the manor house to discuss the terms of the peace treaty. Grey was left behind with the Soaring Rednecks and the remainder of Theta to keep helping with reconstruction. Vylus had departed for Italica's merchant guild to check and see if his mentor was still alive, as well as determine the state of the city's economy after the siege.

The first group was presently gathered in the mansion's throne room. Piña was seated on the late Count Formal's chair; the man's youngest daughter was on the throne to her right, attending the meeting mostly for formality's sake. The princess had changed out of her armor into a comfortable red and white dress with slightly puffy sleeves. It wasn't as fancy as most of the clothes she owned, but it was the most regal thing she'd been able to find in the Count's closet.

Similarly, Hamilton had also changed into a multi-layered, dark blue dress complete with gold buttons and armbands. The young page was currently going over the near-final version of the treaty with Lelei and the Gears, who'd chosen to remain in their robes and armor, respectively.

"To show our appreciation for your assistance here, we'd like to negotiate a fair and equitable compensation." She declared. "Article Two is regarding all envoys, and their safe passage as well as their expenses. Article Three is regarding the trade privileges with shopkeepers on Alnus Hill. Tariffs are hereby waived."

Private Hutch only paid the barest amount of attention to what she was saying. Why was he even here, anyway? Reynolds ultimately had the final say in these negotiations, and if she needed a translator, Dalton and Lelei were more than capable. All he wanted right now was to head back to the East Gate and keep tending to the wounded, not listen to a drawling noble.

He glanced at Dalton, who stood at ease nearby. He wondered if this was how the rookie felt when Prescott held a ceremony in his honor after the initial invasion.

Hamilton lowered the treaty to glare at the assembled soldiers. "However, we would like to make it clear that we possess the right to captives. They are our people, and they broke our laws. We therefore hold the right to deliver justice as we see fit."

Reynolds waited for Lelei to finish translating before replying.

"Fine by us," she said with a light shrug. "We understand that human resources are necessary to ensure Italica's recovery. However, we'd like to bring a few of them with us back to Alnus."

Interesting – Hutch guessed O'Nellis had managed to convince the lieutenant to show mercy on the bird woman she'd found. She'd likely stand a better chance of survival under the COG's care than the vengeful Empire's, even if the Coalition's track record of "humane treatment" concerning POWs was dicey at best.

It was regrettably common for Gears to subject captured Indie soldiers to torture and humiliation and vice versa during the Pendulum Wars. The COG also tried taking Locust prisoners in the early years of the war for Sera's surface; however, the grubs' single-minded drive to kill, even in captivity, made the effort largely worthless.

Last he heard, the Imperial POWs from Jacinto were put to work in labor camps or osmium mines. Not the best treatment, perhaps, though it was better than letting them sit around with their thumbs up their asses. Or worse, get drafted and thrown against the grubs as suicide troops.

The point was that the COG had long passed the point of caring how the Empire decided to treat its own criminals. Even Dalton, who knew very well how merciless these people from beyond the gate could be, didn't raise an objection.

Hamilton nodded. "Very well. You will be allowed to take as many captives as you deem necessary." Her eyes returned to the treaty, glazing over its further details. "The rest of the provisions address conditions for the withdrawal of your troops and the establishment of Italica as neutral ground."

"No objections, as it's been written." Lelei said once she consulted with Reynolds.

Hamilton briefly looked over to Piña, who nodded in approval.

"Then the terms have been agreed upon," the brunette concluded. "As of right now, the ceasefire is in effect. There will be no further conflict between the Coalition of Ordered Governments and the Saderan Empire in this territory."

"Excuse me, but are we just going to ignore how all that's happened these past few days is entirely the Empire's fault?"

The Gears, the knights, and Lelei all turned, stunned, to look at who had spoken.

Countess Myui folded her arms and pouted. "I may not be old enough to rule on my own yet, but I'm not unobservant of what goes on in my own territory. And after all I've seen, I'm tired of being left out of matters of such importance."

"Myui, what are you implying?!" An expression of total shock was plastered over Piña's face.

The young girl glared at her. "Italica has suffered ever since the Empire decided it would subjugate the Coalition, princess. It's the Empire's fault that our standing army was destroyed when they went through the gate. It's the Empire's fault that we've been left defenseless. And if the Emperor didn't go through with that futile effort to drive the Gears – the same soldiers who _just rescued us_ – from Alnus Hill, then the bandit army wouldn't have formed in the first place!"

"Countess, I urge you to rethink your position-!"

"I have!" Myui cut off Piña's plea. "After the fight for Italica ended this morning, and witnessing for myself how the Empire has been left too weak to defend its own territories, I realized that I can no longer count on you for protection. We followed your strategy, Your Highness, but we still would've lost without help. The Coalition, though…" She gestured to the trio of Gears. "They voluntarily stepped in and saved us. They repelled the biggest attack on this city in modern history without any casualties on their side to speak of."

She stood, rising to her full height, which was probably around four and a half feet. "I find the terms of this treaty imbalanced in favor of the Empire, when it was the COG who really claimed victory. Therefore, I, Myui Formal, hereby grant permission for the Coalition of Ordered Governments to build an embassy in Italica. You will also be allowed to maintain an armed force here in exchange for providing security. Furthermore, should hostilities erupt between our countries again, I vow to pledge my allegiance to the COG."

She sat back down and smiled pleasantly at the thunderstruck soldiers.

"In return for your bravery and willingness to defend this city, you have earned the full support of Italica. Congratulations!"

* * *

"Oh, that little-! WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?"

"Princess, you must get a hold of yourself," Grey calmly advised. The old knight kept his cool, even as the Rose Knights' leader punched the wall in frustration.

It was just the two of them in one of the mansion's many hallways. Twenty minutes had passed since the meeting ended, and Grey had shown up in that time to give a status update on the East Gate's condition. What he'd stumbled across was a very happy Myui, an equally satisfied group of Blue Golems, and an irate princess who immediately dragged him away to talk in private.

He was still waiting for the actual talk. Piña hadn't done much since they'd gotten here besides mutter incomprehensibly and mimic strangling motions. The outburst and the wall punch were his cue that it was time to step in.

His former student spun around to face him. "'Get a hold of myself'? How can I get a hold of myself when we've basically just lost Italica?!" she shouted.

Grey folded his arms, regarding her curiously. "Shouldn't you have expected that?"

Piña visibly struggled to answer, stuttering out a string of half-formed words and making a few more frantic hand gestures.

 _Poor girl,_ Grey thought sympathetically. _First you lose Norma, and now you lose the city you only wanted to protect. Unfortunately, that's just how a soldier's life turns out sometimes._

"The Coalition is going to be taking over Italica, aren't they?" he asked.

He was surprised when the princess shook her head. She took several deep breaths to calm herself down, then straightened her posture. Her voice still quivered when she spoke, however.

"N-No. Not entirely. Besides the agreement to make the territory a neutral zone, all they asked for was tax exemption and guaranteed safe passage back to Alnus Hill."

Grey hummed in thought. "I'd be more concerned about that, if I were you. Those terms are unusually light for the victors of a major battle. But what makes you say we've lost the city?"

"The Countess practically _gave_ it to them," Piña spat, scowling at the floor. "She claimed the Empire is too weak to defend itself, citing the bandits as evidence. She's letting the COG have a permanent presence here. And that's not all… if we go to war again, she outright promised to align herself with them!"

"I see." The veteran warrior nodded, scratching his chin as he mulled over what she'd said. "And has she ordered an eviction for the Order of the Rose, or any Imperial sympathizers?"

Piña stiffened. The beginning of an embarrassed blush crept over her cheeks. "Well… no, she hasn't."

"Did she specifically say she has any problems with us remaining here?"

"…No…"

"Then I don't believe the city to be lost yet, Your Majesty. In all honesty, even with young Myui's choice to support the Coalition, this turned out far better than I would've expected."

Piña cocked her head and blinked, confused at his logic. "…You'll have to forgive me, but I don't quite follow."

"Keeping Italica as a neutral zone in the first place would've already given the COG permission to have a presence here," he explained. "What the Countess did simply helped them along. And as much as I hate to admit it, she has a point about our military being in a weakened state. Do you really want to risk breaking the treaty and resuming this war?"

The mere thought made the royal turn as white as her dress. Despite the circumstances, Grey couldn't hold back an amused chuckle.

"Then you don't have to worry about her change in allegiance. I don't know much about them, but they sought peace even though they have enough power to crush our united armies. I genuinely don't believe they want to continue the war, either."

Piña nodded, adopting a look of deep thought. "Indeed… that would explain some of what he said…"

"Princess?"

"One of the Gears told me earlier how there's a 'problem' back in their world," she informed him. "He didn't give any specifics, but he referred to what I believe is a group of entities called the 'Locust'. While I have no proof yet, I'm starting to think the COG was already at war before the Gate opened."

Damn. That promised nothing but bad news. The Coalition by itself was a force to be reckoned with; if another hostile faction with even half their strength existed in the other world, Grey hoped he'd never meet them.

He hesitated for a second. "…Should we be worried?"

"As of now, I don't think so. I'd rather not get too involved in their affairs if I can help it." Piña sighed, then brushed past him and started walking in the direction of the mansion's kitchen. "All this talk of war and peace is making me hungry. Care to join me for some lunch? We haven't eaten at all today."

"As you wish." Grey moved to walk beside her. Still reflecting on the huge turn of events, he put one hand on Piña's shoulder, evoking a look of surprise from the young royal.

He smiled down at her sincerely. "Even if things haven't gone as planned, I'm still proud of you, Princess. You'll make a fine tactician someday, if I say so myself."

She smiled back. "Thank you, Grey. That means a lot to me."

* * *

 **(East Gate, Two Hours Later)**

After a long day of fighting, negotiating, rebuilding, and dealing with their obnoxious cousins from the Air Corps, all seven members of Theta Squad were finally taking some time to just hang around the plaza and enjoy each other's company.

Speaking of the Soaring Rednecks, they'd departed Italica with the COG's new prisoners a few minutes earlier to fanfare from the townsfolk, much to their great delight. Skippy personally made an announcement that the battle group was glad to be back in action and to call them in case anyone else needed killing.

The civilians hadn't understood a word he'd said, but that didn't stop them from cheering anyway.

With the East Gate secure and the POWs being taken to Alnus, all that was left for the squad to do was finish up their reason for coming to Italica in the first place.

"Has anyone seen the girls?" Dalton asked from his spot on a pile of rubble. Next to him, Gyules shrugged cluelessly.

Leaning against the bulwark with his arms folded, Bare replied, "They're visiting the merchants' guild to sell the wyvern scales. Lelei said it shouldn't take long."

"Oh, right, I kinda forgot about those."

"Yeah, that epic battle with an army of crazed bandits _was_ a bit distracting." O'Nellis teased. The corporal was lounging around on the roof of one of the Packhorses, content to bask in the afternoon sun. "I wonder if Myuute will be okay… She looked terrified when they loaded her onto the Raven."

"Knowing my uncle, he'll probably lock her up in a giant bird cage until she's learned her lesson about joining outlaw gangs," Reynolds, who was resting on the second LAV's hood, snarked.

That got a laugh from most of the team. Another battle won, another settlement saved, and a bit of a stronger bond between them as a result. None of them could honestly say they regretted coming to Italica, even after what was supposed to be a simple job turned into the final battle of the Gate War.

"Yo, Sergeant Weaver." Gyules piped up.

The sniper lifted his hat over his eyes to look at the private. He'd been trying to catch a quick nap against the side of the second Packhorse, if the pillow he'd snagged from the trunk was any indication.

"Yeah, what?"

"Did you actually kill anyone during the battle?"

Weaver visibly thought it over. He cringed when he realized the answer to the pyro's question. "…Fuck, I don't think so."

"Ha! I knew it! Even Hutch must've had a higher kill count!" Gyules pointed to the medic, who was aimlessly wandering around the plaza with nothing to do. "Tuka and Lelei, too!"

Weaver scowled and pulled his hat back down. "Up yours, Weeb. Don't forget I shot their fucking leader's manhood off. There are fates worse than death, y'know."

"Like getting sentenced to the Slab?"

"I was gonna say like realizing your reputation is ruined forever because you called some asshole an evildoer, but that works too. Now shut up and let me sleep."

Another round of laughs sounded from the assembled Gears.

Gyules slumped his shoulders. "Man, fuck you guys…"

* * *

 **(Italica Merchants' Guild)**

Merchant's assistant Vylus was sweating bullets.

Rory Mercury was in the same room as him. The same girl who chopped innumerable bandits to death not ten hours earlier. True, she came here with her companions for trading purposes, and seemed kind of bored watching the pleasantries getting swapped around, but… wasn't that a red flag? If she got bored, then she'd look for something to occupy herself! And that something might be killing!

His eyes darted to the other two girls in the room. The elf was smiling, watching happily while her Lindonite mage friend showed Master Ryudo a pristine wyvern scale. They both looked so innocent; he didn't understand how they'd gotten associated with-

Hold up. Where'd they get that wyvern scale?

"Well! A splendid scale!" Ryudo exclaimed, taking the scale to more closely examine it. "A few weeks ago, I would've mistaken this for a dragon scale at first glance… but my assistant over here informed me these particular ones come from wyverns!"

All eyes turned to the former Imperial soldier.

"I, um… I have a brother in the Imperial Army. He raises wyverns," he lied. He turned to address the mage girl. "So, getting back on track… How many of these scales do you have?"

The elf hoisted up a heavy bag laying at her feet and unceremoniously dropped it on the table. A loud _thud_ shook the entire room.

"Two hundred!" she declared.

Vylus gasped in shock.

 _Two hundred-?! But where did-?! How could-?! Oh. Right. They travel with the Blue Golems, so they've probably been to Alnus Hill._

"Are you feeling okay?"

The merchant-in-training looked down to his right. Rory was still in her chair, watching him closely, though she still looked bored.

"You're sweating," she helpfully pointed out. "Think you might be running a fever?"

"No, no, I'm fine. Just… surprised, is all." He quickly assured her. "It's not everyday that an elf, a mage, and an Apostle walk into a shop with two hundred wyvern scales. I'm curious to see how Master Ryudo will proceed."

She stared at him a second longer, then nodded, turning back to watch the exchange. Vylus breathed a mental sigh of relief.

 _I don't even want to KNOW what the Golems did to get Rory Mercury on their side. Something horrendously violent, no doubt._

"Two hundred?!" Ryudo shared his assistant's shock.

"Also, the Empire has given us trader's tax exemption inside the city limits." The mage continued.

Ryudo laughed. "Aha! Privileged merchant status isn't easy to come by! Now, let me see…" He grabbed a quill and a roll of parchment from the table and began crunching numbers. The middle-aged man hummed, frowning as he finished his calculations. "Well, I'd normally give you two hundred gold and four thousand Denari silver for such a prize…" He scratched his forehead with the quill. "The thing is, with the battle we just had in the city, our supply of Denari silver coins is running a bit scarce. I can only give you a thousand Denari now."

"So we're not getting the money?" the elf asked, clearly saddened at the news.

"Shhh. Just wait. This is where Master Ryudo does his own kind of magic," Vylus hushed her.

"You flatter me, my assistant!" the older man chuckled. "However, you unfortunately overestimate my abilities. I can make a draft for two thousand Denari right away, but that's about it, I'm afraid."

The mage closed her eyes to think. When she opened them, she nodded, appearing satisfied. "That'll do. We'll give you a discount for the other thousand." She suddenly leaned closer, and Vylus almost reached for the imaginary sword at his waist out of reflex. "Instead, I'd like to receive some information from you that would be worth that price."

"Ooh, is that right? What kind of information?"

She pointed directly at Vylus. "I want to know what he saw at Alnus Hill."

* * *

 **(Tessaria Highway, Two Hours Later)**

Theta Squad had finally left the city of Italica in their wake and were back on the road to Alnus Station. The seating arrangement in both Packhorses was the same as last time, with everyone except Weaver, Hutch, and Gyules riding in the first jeep.

Not keen on the thought of playing "Alphabetical Bones" again, Gyules instead opted to sit on the turret. He should've done that last time, he thought in hindsight – the weather was great, the scenery was beautiful as always, and it gave him the perfect chance to be alone with his thoughts and plan what he'd do next after they returned to base.

 _Seb's hosting Nerd Night later_ , _if I'm remembering correctly. Man, I can't wait to tell the guys about Italica! It's gonna be FRICKIN' AWESOME! Still no catgirls, but if Alec can find his dream woman, then it's only a matter of time until I find mine!_

"I love this world," he sighed in contentment.

He'd just started humming a random tune when his helmet radio received an incoming transmission on a private channel.

 _"_ _Hey, Private?"_

"Sergeant Weaver? What's up?"

 _"_ _Look, all jokes aside, you did good back in Italica. You put the fear of God into those evildoers. Or maybe the Devil, since he's the fiery one… Just shut up and take the compliment."_

Gyules' grin would've looked silly if it wasn't for the helmet. "Wow… thank you, Sarge! That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!"

 _"_ _I told you to shut up."_

The call ended abruptly, but his mood had skyrocketed. First they'd won the battle, then the COG was granted an embassy, and now Sergeant fucking Weaver gave him a compliment? The way things were going, this was shaping up to be the perfect day.

Thirty minutes later, the Packhorse ahead of them slowed to a stop, with Weaver following suit.

Before he could ask what the matter was, the lead jeep's back doors opened and Dalton hopped out. The rifleman wasted no time before jogging out into the open field surrounding them, seemingly headed for a lone hill in the distance.

"Alec! Whatcha doing, bro?" Gyules called out to him.

Dalton looked back over his shoulder. "Nature's calling, dude! The kind that requires privacy!"

"Well you should've gone before we left Italica!"

"Man, you sound like Reynolds!"

Gyules laughed softly at his friend's rebuttal. He spent the next few minutes looking everywhere except the hill; Alec probably went around it to keep hidden, but the otaku wasn't taking any chances. Perhaps because of this, he was the first to see a plume of dust forming further up the road.

He squinted, but couldn't make out any details. He decided to radio Reynolds just in case.

"Uh, Lieutenant? Are you seeing this?"

 _"_ _I am, Private. Stay on that turret and don't shoot unless I give the order."_

"Wilco." He ended the call and waited. The plume was getting bigger with every passing moment. The young Gear drummed his fingers on the turret, growing increasingly nervous as the seconds ticked by.

"C'mon, Alec, can't you do your business any faster…?" he murmured.

Eventually, the dust close grew close enough that he could see its source. When he did, his jaw dropped in pure shock while another part of him went up.

"Ho-ly _fuck_ …"

Women. Seven of them, all mounted on horseback and _holy shit they were hot_. All of them had armor suspiciously similar to the sets Piña and that Hamilton chick wore, only this group's was thicker and covered more skin. Two of them bore red standards emblazoned with a tri-colored rose: red, yellow, and white.

…Did the blond one in the front have _ringlets_?!

"Reynolds…?" he squeaked into his radio.

 _"_ _Keep it together, Private Gyules! The rest of the princess' knights must be on their way to reinforce Italica. Your orders are the same – don't open fire. They don't know about the treaty."_

Shit, maybe the COG should've left some of their soldiers there after all. Captain Mayweather had been open to the idea of setting up an embassy – honestly, why wouldn't he be? – though he ultimately needed to wait for the Chairman's approval before stationing a permanent force. Considering how busy Prescott was on a daily basis, that could take days.

Five of the horses stopped when they were a few meters away from the COG's vehicles. Ringlet Girl approached the passenger door of the first LAV and started yelling something at Reynolds. A second knight with short, cream-colored hair guided her horse over to the other jeep, fixing her bright jade eyes on Gyules with an expression of utter distrust.

"Who are you, and where do you hail from?" she barked at him.

"Um… hello?" he said back, trying to sound polite. "My name is Rudy Gyules. I'm from, uh… far away."

"And just how far is ' _far away_ '?"

"Well, you see, the thing is… we, uhh…"

He had to think! What could he say to convince her that he was no longer the enemy?

Turns out, nothing. Reynolds must've accidentally said something to provoke Ringlet Girl, because she suddenly turned to Gyules' own interrogator and yelled over frantically.

"Panache, this woman claims they were just at Italica! They must be the enemy Princess Piña summoned us to fight!"

"Not true! We _saved_ Italica!" he heard Reynolds shoot back in reply.

The jade-eyed knight, now identified as Panache, turned back to Gyules with a thoughtful frown. A second later, she gasped as realization finally struck her. "Bozes, look at their armor! These must be the Blue Golems of Alnus Hill!"

"Now wait just a-!"

He was cut off when Panache drew a very long, very _sharp_ sword and pointed it at his throat. Shaking off the brief surge of fear, he aimed the turret's barrels at her in response, resting his thumbs on the triggers.

 _"_ _Hold your fire, Gyules!"_

The five other knights also drew their swords, ready to step in. The situation had rapidly deteriorated into a standoff, with neither side willing to back down.

Gyules forced himself to stay calm. This could still be fixed – somehow. As long as nothing else unexpected happened, then maybe they could-

"Whoa, what the hell's happening here?"

Rudy's face paled in horror.

Alec Dalton walked at a brisk pace back to the Packhorses, still buckling up his pants. "Are these more of Piña's knights? Wait, what's with all the drawn swords…?"

The Rose Knights were quick to act; all seven of them moved to form a circle around the clueless Gear, surrounding him with a ring of blades.

"ALEC!" Rudy screamed.

Reynolds leaned out the window. "PRIVATE DALTON!"

"Huh? What's happening? Why are you doing this?!" Dalton cried, swiveling around again and again to take in all the angry faces glaring at him.

Bozes struck him across the helmet with the flat of her blade, nearly knocking him into another outstretched sword.

"Quiet, Golem!" she commanded.

Gyules was ready to panic. Alec was completely unarmed, having left his weapons in the jeep. He couldn't use the turret either, since the knights were bunched up around him close enough that he risked friendly fire.

What else could he do, though? There had to be a solution!

"Run!" Dalton yelled, waving his arms at his fellow Gears. "Get out of here! This'll only get worse if you stay!"

"I said _quiet_!" Bozes boomed, striking him a second time. Even though her blade failed to damage his armor, the blow landed perilously close to his neck.

Dalton grunted, staggered forward and dropped to his knees. Seven steel blades followed his movements.

"We're not leaving you!" Gyules argued desperately.

"You have to! I'll be alright; just get out of here! GO!"

The pyro looked over to Reynolds. She was clutching the side of the open window with a white-knuckled grip, head hung low, blond hair hiding her face. After a few tense moments, he saw her raise a shaking hand to her earpiece.

He didn't hear what she said, and he didn't have to. The Packhorses lurching to life made it obvious what her orders were.

"We'll come back for you, Alec!" Gyules hollered over the engines' roar.

He watched in silence afterwards as the outline of his best friend and his captors gradually shrunk. Only when they were gone from his line of sight did he let the tears start to flow.

"We'll come back for you… I swear on my life, we _will_ get you back…"

Rudolph Gyules had already lost one brother. He'd break the treaty and storm Italica alone if it meant he wouldn't lose another.

* * *

 **Breather chapter for the most part. Seriously, though, how many of you expected _Myui_ of all people to pull a fast one on the Empire?**

 **I know some of you are probably still throwing a fit about me leaving in the kidnapping scene. Here's my rationalization:**

 **1) Itami getting out of the jeep when the Rose Knights were clearly hostile was a stupid move. Dalton wandered off before they arrived, so he didn't know what was going on when he got back.**

 **2) Like Gyules mentioned, he was unarmed and surrounded. Any rescue attempt by the COG or even Rory could've ended up hurting or killing him.**

 **3) Let's face it: Bozes and maybe Panache are too bullheaded to listen to reason at times. They'd likely not believe anything these "Blue Golems" have to say.**

 **4) Again, extra context in the next chapter.**

 **5) I like episode 7. I find it entertaining. Deal with it.**

 **Another two chapters maximum before the crew goes to Sera. I have a plan for that now... This is gonna be gooooood.**

 **Most of the reviews I can answer as follows:**

 **By the time this story takes place in the canonical Gears timeline, the COG Army is mostly made up of former Stranded, pardoned convicts (like Weaver), people with Rustlung… basically anyone who can hold a gun is drafted. Even then, I estimate the army is still too small to hold onto more than one or two major settlements in the Special Region without stretching themselves thin. Now that they have Alnus and Italica, they probably won't be able to expand any farther.**

 **This also leads to situations like Dalton. I** ** _know_** **he acts like a timid dork when he "should be a badass Gear, hurr durr". I** ** _know_** **he doesn't have a soldier's mindset. There's a reason for that, which I plan to reveal sometime during the Sera arc. Trust me when I say I know what I'm doing going forward with this story.**

 **And good lord, at least try to offer some constructive criticism instead of simply bashing things you don't like. It's childish.  
**


	11. Saving Private Dalton

**Lol. I knew at least one person would ignore my reasoning for the last chapter's ending and whine about it in the reviews. There will be times when I'll have to make controversial choices in this story; if that's too much for some of you to handle, the exit's that way.**

 **To those of you who stuck with me to this point, thank you. I greatly appreciate all the support and encouragement. I love you guys, no homo.  
**

 **It should be obvious to most of you what events will happen in this chapter, so let's not waste any more time than needed, yes?**

* * *

 **(Illima City, Tyrus, Five Years Ago…)**

The sky above Illima was rapidly darkening, even though a few hours of daylight still remained. The sun was blotted out by an unnatural black cloud; toxic vapors colored a sickening yellowish-green hue churned within it, giving the cloud the appearance of a literal miasma hanging over the city. If one looked closely, they could see the vague shapes of Nemacyst swimming through the sea of airborne ink.

The city itself, just yesterday a thriving commercial hub for the COG, now sat under the control of the genocidal Locust Horde. Almost every Gear tasked to defend their valuable bastion had either been evacuated or killed.

The lucky ones died before artificial darkness claimed the sky. Now swarms of nocturnal Kryll washed over the ruined streets, devouring every living thing in sight down to the bone – human, animal, and Locust alike. In the few areas of the city the creatures hadn't reached yet, Locust patrols diligently searched for survivors, gunning down the ones they found without any hint of remorse.

Sergeant Theodore Bare happened to be in one of those areas. He was alone; the rest of his squad had been picked off one by one during the course of the battle, leaving him the sole survivor of Epsilon-Three. He was making his way down a random street, running like a man possessed, as if the entirety of the Kryllstorm was nipping at his heels.

He could have evacuated with the others. _Should_ have. But when he didn't receive a response after he tried to contact Sarah and her team, fear for her safety overcame all rational thought.

Teddy vaulted over a collapsed lamp post and kept running. A squad of four Drones suddenly wandered out of nowhere into sight ahead, threatening to impede his progress.

It didn't take long for them to notice him. One of the grubs pointed a long, clawed finger at the lone Gear, contorting its hideous face into a snarl.

" _Groundwalkerrr!_ " the thing hissed.

Without losing his momentum, Bare drew his Snub and fired a quick shot into each Drone's head. Strangely, instead of leaving behind corpses, the Locust dissolved into masses of black mist when the bullets hit their marks.

There was no room in his mind to wonder why that happened. The sergeant thundered past the spot where the creatures previously stood, kicking up several wisps of dispersing smoke in his wake.

He tried radioing the missing squad again. "Foxtrot-Two, this is Sergeant Bare! Does anyone read?"

No response. Panic flooded his veins, spurring him to run even faster.

"Foxtrot-Two, please pick up! Where the hell are you guys?! Answer me!"

Still nothing. Bare soon reached a three-way intersection, skidding to a stop and darting his head between the two possible routes he could take. An evacuation checkpoint leading out of the city sat abandoned to his left, sprinkled with the bodies of dead Gears and civilians. On his right, a line of burning cars stretched further into Illima, the warm glow of the fires providing a makeshift form of protection against the extremely photosensitive Kryll.

He didn't know where to go from here. Desperate since no one was responding over the radio, Bare threw his head skyward and boomed to the heavens.

"SARAH!" His grief-stricken plea carried across the ravaged cityscape. "SARAH, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

He waited. Waited and prayed. After a few seconds' silence, the hulking soldier shut his eyes tight, clenched his teeth together, and choked back a sob.

No… not her, too… she was so strong, and dedicated, and the thought of her being dead…

She was all he had left…

"Teddy?" a faint reply came from his right.

Eyes snapping open, heart leaping into his throat, Bare turned in the direction of her voice. "Sarah?"

"Teddy, help me!" There was no mistaking it – she sounded scared. The sudden realization made him freeze. "Get me out of here!"

Quickly shaping off his trepidation, Bare took off again, drawing his Lancer in case more grubs made their presence known.

"Hold on, Sarah, I'm coming!" he shouted back.

The Locust were all too happy to show themselves, he soon found out. As he maneuvered his way through the clustered masses of melting vehicles, an occasional Drone or Grenadier emerged from their hiding places behind cars or piles of debris to take shots at him. Bare crouched lower to the ground and kept running, somehow managing to avoid getting hit, but he knew his luck could run out at any second. If only he had time to find cover…

"Teddy! Oh god, I hear him coming!"

Snarling under his helmet, Bare instead opted for a run-and-gun approach, still moving at full speed while firing his assault rifle from the hip. It was a dangerous and foolhardy ploy that threw the Golden Rule of the Gears right out the window, but he would take the risk if it meant rescuing Sarah sooner.

A few Locust were struck by his erratic sprays of gunfire; each one he killed was reduced to the same dark mist as the first group.

At one point, a Kantus priest made a clean jump over an intact car ahead of him, screaming a challenge at the lone Gear before opening fire with its Gorgon pistol. Bare skillfully weaved around each burst of the deformed creature's sidearm, and by the time he closed the distance between them, the Kantus had fortunately run the magazine dry. Taking advantage of the opening, Bare revved his chainsaw and sliced diagonally into the Locust monk's abdomen. He nearly stumbled over when he met no resistance from its flesh, as it had immediately dissolved into smoke, but caught himself at the last second and resumed his sprint.

"He's right around the corner! Oh god, _please_ …!"

Who was she talking about? Who was terrifying enough to make his normally iron-willed Sarah lose her composure like that?

Bare navigated down more dimly lit streets, cutting a swathe through more of those strange shadow Locust along the way. They were unusually frail, dying after sustaining what would've normally been light wounds, and each time they turned into smoke as black as the city's sky. He darted between abandoned vehicles, mantled over collapsed infrastructure, and slew every grub in his way, following after the female Gear's increasingly frantic cries for help without any signs of exhaustion.

He'd make it, he promised himself. He'd save her from this doomed city, then they'd go back to Jacinto, back to the apartment they both called home. All he had to do was find her before her unknown tormentor did.

"No! Get away from me!" He heard a burst of panicked gunfire from a side alley just up ahead, soon mixed with the unmistakable screech of Kryll. " _THEODORE!_ "

"SARAH!"

Bare's heart hammered so fast he thought it might explode. He was so close! She just had to hold on for a few more seconds, and he could get them out of here alive!

An ear-shattering scream made his heartbeat come to a sudden standstill.

He bolted into the alleyway, Lancer raised, poised and ready for combat. The space between the two buildings seemed to stretch on for miles. The path ahead of him was swallowed by a veil of total darkness; the sergeant couldn't make out any signs of life in the void, or anything at all.

"Sarah…?"

He took a few cautious steps forward, keeping his rifle aimed in front of him. For a while, the only sound in the area was his short, rapid breaths.

Something stirred in the dark. The chattering of Kryll, soon accompanied by the sound of heavy footfalls headed in his direction. As the footsteps grew louder, the outline of a truly massive figure that dwarfed any human in size steadily became visible.

Bare subconsciously lowered his Lancer when the figure finally emerged into full view.

It was a Locust, adorned in ornate yet thick black robes. It carried in its right hand a serrated sword that looked like it could cut through COG armor like hot butter. There was something else held in its left hand, though the small swarm of Kryll fluttering around the monster prevented the sergeant from getting a good look. Amazingly, the Kryll made no moves to attack the towering grub despite their carnivorous instincts.

The Locust slowly stretched its left hand forward, revealing in its grasp the top half of a human skull stripped of flesh.

Even without any identifying features, Bare had a feeling he knew who it belonged to. He dropped his gun to the ground, but still remained rooted in place, unable to remove his gaze from the piece of bone.

General RAAM crushed the skull to dust, then pointed at the devastated Gear.

 _"_ _Feeeeeeed!"_

Paralyzed with terror and overcome by crushing grief, Teddy didn't move when the Kryll screeched and lunged at him with open jaws, their tiny fangs poised to rip into his skin.

* * *

 **(West Gate Perimeter, Italica, Present Day)**

Bare woke up without a sound.

It took the feeling of soft grass tickling his arms, along with the chattering of voices close by, to remind the Master Sergeant of where he was. He was lying prone in a field; when he looked up at the sky, he realized the darkness enveloping the team was due to it actually being nighttime, not because of a Nemacyst infestation. The dim glow of the Special Region's moon was partially overshadowed by the strange violet lights emanating from the odd cluster of bell flowers surrounding him.

 _It was all just a dream,_ he told himself. _I'm back in the Special Region. There are no Locust here. I'm safe._

That knowledge helped to ease Bare's still-hammering heart. He may not have woken up screaming, but the nightmare was still vivid enough to leave the veteran Gear in a cold sweat.

He took a moment to observe more of the area around him. The rest of Theta Squad – minus Dalton – and the local girls were hunkered down on either side of him, engaging in whispered conversations he couldn't decipher. The city of Italica sat half a klick in front of the group, peacefully quiet now that the bandit army had been dealt with.

At least, he hoped it was quiet. Who knew what those knights were doing to his captured squadmate in there?

If anyone had noticed he'd fallen asleep, they didn't comment on it. Lieutenant Reynolds eventually broke off her conversation with Lelei to address to the team's resident demigoddess.

"Rory, are you sure the Packhorses will be safe back there?" she inquired, sounding a bit skeptical.

"Of course," the reaper crooned. "Anyone outside of our little group who tries to tamper with your steeds will meet a very _messy_ end. Trust me, you needn't fear a thing."

They'd left both LAVs parked in a shallow ravine a few minutes' walk from their current position. It was an inconspicuous spot, not easy to find if you didn't know where to look, and the tall grasses they'd covered the jeeps with provided some extra camouflage. O'Nellis was originally ordered to stay behind and guard them from any unwanted guests, until Rory revealed a simpler (as well as arguably inhumane) alternative: hex magic.

It turned out the length of the Apostle's supernatural abilities extended beyond even immortality; she was also able to place curses on objects that only permitted certain individuals to touch them safely, seemingly at her choosing. While she hadn't elaborated on what would happen to those who _weren't_ permitted, it was easy to deduce the results would be gruesome, as expected of someone chosen to be the Death God's hand in the mortal world.

Bare idly wondered what would happen if a curious animal wandered too close to the Packhorses, before shoving those thoughts aside. Not now – there was a job to do.

Reynolds nodded, still looking mildly concerned, then turned to the team's sniper next. "Weaver, what do you see?"

The sergeant didn't remove his gaze from his rifle scope. "I'm counting at least fifteen Imperial soldiers patrolling the wall. Couple civvies, too. Looks like those knight chicks came with the whole damn cavalry in tow."

The COG group had chosen to try and sneak into the city through the western gate. The north entrance was practically inaccessible, and with the south and east sides still damaged from the siege, Reynolds concluded that any major reinforcements sent to Italica after the battle would be split between the two.

Princess Piña had stated before their departure that the West Gate would be converted from a military district into a temporary residential one. It made sense to Bare – there was no point having a militarized area when the city's standing army had been wiped out, and it was best to keep the civilians as far away from the more vulnerable walls as possible. It was better to let the army fill in the cracks where they were needed.

Fifteen guards was still quite a lot, though.

Gyules, who was also lying prone next to Bare, suddenly made to rise. "I don't care if there's fifteen of them or five hundred!" he exclaimed. "Those bastards have Alec, and I've gotta find him! HOLD ON, BUDDY, I'M COMING!"

Teddy grabbed the rookie by the collar of his cuirass and forced him back down.

"Easy there, pup. I know you want to rescue your friend, but charging in recklessly like that will only sound an alarm," he advised. "We'll try to get him out as quickly as we can, but you need to be patient. We're not even sure if these guys know about the ceasefire."

Flickers of the nightmare returned to him. Bare could sympathize with Gyules wanting to rush in to save a loved one, but unless they could devise a way to get into the city that wouldn't reignite hostilities, there was little the squad could do.

Apparently, Reynolds had been thinking the same thing. "If anyone knows a way we can sneak inside without violence, then speak up. I can't come up with any ideas."

"I have two." Weaver said. "The first is that we offer up the weeb as a sacrifice."

"Hey!" Gyules whined.

"Do I even _want_ to know what the second option is?" the lieutenant sighed.

Weaver glanced at them, smirking that all-too-familiar smirk. "The second option is we send Hutch over to practice his motivational speaking on them. I guarantee they'll fall asleep in seconds."

Everyone turned to look at Hutch.

"That… might actually work," the medic admitted.

O'Nellis stifled a giggle. "I kinda want to try that now, to be honest."

"Well I don't. As squad leader, I'm vetoing both those suggestions." Reynolds declared.

Weaver slowly raised his hand.

"And no, an override vote won't work."

Weaver lowered his hand.

Surprisingly, it was Tuka who spoke up next. "I might have an idea…"

* * *

 **(Formal Mansion, Italica)**

"YOU IDIOTS!"

 _Crack!_

Bozes Co Palesti winced in pain when the goblet Princess Piña threw at her struck her forehead and clattered to the floor, spilling out its strawberry-flavored contents. She watched, too transfixed to notice the fresh blood flowing from the point of impact, as the Rose Knights' commander heaved in very obvious rage.

She and Panache had entered the mansion's throne room moments earlier, eager to show the princess the evil Blue Golem they'd captured on their journey to Italica. Bozes expected Piña to be shocked when they proudly presented their captive, as well as delighted to finally have a chance to interrogate one of those monsters in human skin.

She'd been shocked, alright. Just not in the way the two knights expected.

"You absolute _idiots_ …" she ground out.

Panache was quick to draw a handkerchief from her travel pack and knelt down beside her injured friend, gently wiping the blood off her face, while simultaneously staring in slight fear at the outraged royal.

"Your Majesty, what have we done to make you this angry?" the White Rose asked.

"What do you think?!" Piña snapped, pointing to her left.

She was referring to the Golem they'd captured earlier, because what else could've set her off so badly? The enemy soldier was slumped unconscious against the wall, completely unresponsive to Hamilton's rough shaking and desperate pleas to wake up. He was still clad in his armor, though the brunette had removed his helmet in order to try slapping him awake. It hadn't worked.

Bozes still failed to grasp what the problem was. He wasn't dead – probably – and she didn't think they'd permanently crippled him, either. Should she have done more?

"Tell me exactly what methods of torture you used on him," Piña demanded. She placed her hands on her hips and waited, glaring holes into her second-in-command.

The blond warrior hesitated briefly. "Princess…?"

"TELL ME WHAT YOU DID!"

"We- We clubbed him near his joints!" Bozes hastily informed her. "His armor is surprisingly resilient, so we had to improvise. We struck him every time he spoke until he learned to stay silent. After that, we tied a rope around his neck and had him run after us on foot all the way to the city gates. Nikolasha intentionally provoked her horse into bucking him at one point, and… Princess?"

Piña visibly grew more and more horrified with each atrocity her subordinate listed. The royal swayed on her feet, then sat back down on one of the twin thrones, clutching her head with one hand. She was barely restraining the urge to scream or cry, judging by her expression.

"I suggest you stop there." Grey advised, having kept silent from his spot near Piña's side until now.

A dull thud followed by a scream from Hamilton brought the quartet's attention back to the side of the throne room. The mythical Blue Golem – the soldier from an otherworldly army so deadly that even the Imperial military crumbled when pitted against them – had toppled over in an ungraceful heap.

* * *

Deciding that keeping their unexpected guest in the same room as his captors wasn't a wise idea, the princess summoned a group of four Formal maids and instructed them to carry the unconscious Gear to a private room so he could begin recovering. It was the least she could do after the agony her idiotic knights put him through.

Speaking of her idiotic knights, she'd dismissed Hamilton, Bozes, and Panache for the time being; she'd also made it _very clear_ to the latter two that they should expect to face severe punishment in the near future. The redhead might've found their faces when she explained the treaty amusing had the situation not been so dire.

She was still sat in the late Count's throne, eyes closed and nursing her forehead. It really was incredible how the sequence of events over the last twenty-four hours went from hopeless to sort of good and then back to hopeless. She'd just started getting comfortable with the idea of the Coalition having an embassy, too.

When whoever was running the show at Alnus Hill learned that one of their soldiers was captured and tortured so shortly after the treaty was signed, there was little reason to doubt they would forego the embassy and simply take over all of Italica by force instead.

"We broke the treaty less than a day after we signed it," she muttered to Grey.

The princess heard him shift in place. "We did. Unintentionally, but yes."

"So what happens now?"

"The Coalition can use this as a reason to restart the war," he pointed out. "It's exactly what the Empire does to any lesser country."

He was right about that, sadly enough. In the rare instances where the Imperial Army wasn't able to immediately conquer a weaker nation by force, the Emperor would forge diplomatic treaties much like the one she'd made with the Coalition. Once it was in place, all he needed to do was wait for the slightest infraction on their side to use as an excuse to resume war. It was a brilliant strategy used by Imperial rulers for generations, and one that Piña was unashamedly proud of.

Until now, anyway. She was beginning to see why some people would take issue with a foreign army raping, pillaging, and murdering their way across their country.

It reminded her of what Kaine said about her home town of Rosa. She still vividly remembered the disdain in the maid's eyes when she spoke of how the Empire seized it as part of their own territory.

The thought of an unstoppable juggernaut like the COG rampaging through her family's lands, all because of a misunderstanding…

"If that happens, the fighting would be over very quickly." She grumbled.

"At least Bozes and Panache didn't go overboard and kill the guy." Grey paused for a second. "Wait… wasn't that the same Gol- err, _Gear_ you hit with the door the other day?"

Piña audibly sucked in a steady stream of air through clenched teeth. "Yes. The very same."

She'd known it was him the moment Hamilton took his helmet off. The scar on his nose was a dead giveaway.

"Damn. I don't know if they targeted him specifically or not, but that's just unlucky. Combined with how you plotted to use him as cannon fodder, I think it's safe to assume you haven't made the best impression on him."

Piña said nothing, prompting Grey to continue. "Even if he knows you didn't mean to, there's still plenty of negative things he could say to his superiors about his experiences here. That kid could single-handedly restart the war if he wanted to."

"Are you saying all of this to try and make me feel guilty?" the princess asked crossly, finally turning to face him directly. Yes, her knights messed up! Yes, she regretted it! Why did her mentor feel it was necessary to rub it in?

The old warrior fixed her with a firm, even stare. "No. I'm saying this because, despite some of the mishaps, it's not too late to make amends." His weathered face softened, then morphed into a smirk. "You could always try a simple apology."

"You're saying I should grovel at his feet? Prostrate myself in front of him?!" Piña asked, flabbergasted.

Grey shrugged. "If that's what you think it'll take. Truthfully, I'd rather take my chances in a one-on-one against Rory Mercury than wake the sleeping COG giant again."

Piña turned her gaze to the polished floor, frowning in deep thought.

In hindsight, and even if she felt horrible for thinking this, it was probably for the best that Dalton was the one captured and not someone else from his squad. While she didn't know him all that well, what she saw was enough to convince her that he was a gentle and kind-hearted Gear compared to the others she'd seen. He actively sought her out and tried to comfort her when she was still grieving over Norma. The fact that he did so, even though they were initially enemies, proved that he was a very trusting person…

…Which also meant he could be easy to manipulate.

* * *

 **(West Gate Perimeter)**

There was never a dull day when you lived with the COG, Tuka Luna Marceau reflected wryly as she, Lelei, and Rory approached the West Gate at a casual pace. There was always something new to learn; whether it was a linguistic term, a basic survival skill, or a tutorial on how some of their strange technology worked, she found it all equally intriguing and sometimes even fun.

And that was just at Alnus Hill. Every time she was out on the field with Theta Squad, she'd witnessed miracles once thought possible only in legends. They drove off the Fire Dragon! They'd saved Italica from a rogue army of outlaws! She was starting to believe there was nothing they couldn't do when they put their minds to it.

However, while she enjoyed her new life with her new friends – both native to her world and otherwise – she couldn't help but feel left out of place at times. Each member of Theta was a lethal combatant by themselves, along with Rory. Lelei absorbed everything she learned about the Coalition at an astonishing rate and could serve as a semi-fluent translator when needed, and that wasn't even mentioning her magical prowess.

What did Tuka contribute, then? Well, she was a talented archer for starters. So what if her bow was inferior in every way to a "Lanswer"? Also, her elven heritage gave her magical abilities on par with Lelei's… even if it was a bit unstable, since spirit magic wasn't commonly practiced… Oh, and she could hear things from a longer distance! That was helpful… sort of.

Okay, so she hadn't been much use to the team so far. But that was changing! She'd come up with a plan all by herself, and Reynolds gave it the go-ahead! Progress!

"If only dad could see me now," she sighed with a wistful smile.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that?" Lelei turned and looked at her curiously.

The elf winced a little; she hadn't realized she'd said that out loud. "Oh, nothing! I'm just excited to be helping again, that's all." She assured her companion.

Lelei nodded in agreement. "As am I. These 'field ops' have proven to be quite exhilarating." The mage then shifted her attention to the third member of their party. "Priestess, may I ask you something?"

"I told you, dear, call me Rory." The halberd-wielding mass murderer replied airily. Unlike Tuka and Lelei, who both exercised a degree of caution in their movements, the Apostle sauntered toward the city's entrance with her usual and well-deserved confidence. "And please, ask away."

"You could've prevented Pry-vit Dalton from getting kidnapped, even without threats or violence. Why didn't you?"

Tuka had wondered the same thing, to be honest. She'd watched the standoff between the Gears and the knights through the Packhorse's window. She'd been too panicked back then to notice how Rory hadn't moved a muscle, or even look like she cared about what was going on outside.

Even if her village preferred to stay isolated from the rest of the world, no one in the settlement didn't know about the Twelve Apostles and their influence. Their words carried more weight than any emperor's or king's.

"And why should I have?" Rory answered, shrugging nonchalantly. "It was Dalton's own fault he got captured. I wasn't about to bail him out of the mess _he_ created."

"…But isn't he a part of the team?" Tuka asked hesitantly.

The reaper tsk-tsk'd, shaking her head of raven hair. "I'll be blunt with you, sweetie: that boy desperately needs to toughen up. He's so unsure of himself that it makes me want to put him out of his misery sometimes. Every other member of the squad has their own set of principles, their own goals for the future… except for him."

Tuka wasn't sure she believed that. She always thought Dalton was a good guy. Maybe not as brave or determined as someone like Bare, but not as expendable as Rory claimed him to be. He even went out of his way to sit with her during meals to check up on how she was settling in; a small gesture, though one she greatly appreciated.

"Reynolds' goal is to peacefully spread COG influence and make diplomatic ties with the Empire. Bare desires the protection and cooperation of non-combatants," Rory began listing off. "Hutch strives to keep people healthy. Weaver and O'Nellis place each other's safety above nearly anything else, and even Gyules seems to have some long-term plans. Dalton, however… his ideals are all over the place. Half the time he shows a warrior's conviction, and the other half he laments about his life as a soldier. He'll fight alongside his comrades, but refuse to take credit afterwards. Why would I assist someone like that?"

"You let him get captured on purpose?" Lelei inquired. The young mage looked more perplexed than shocked at Rory's odd logic, unlike Tuka, who stared at the demigoddess in mild disgust.

Rory noticed the latter's reaction. She sighed, adjusting the halberd resting over her shoulder.

"It was for his own good. Emroy, and by extension myself, believe that in order to have a good death, one must first live a fulfilling life. I'm hoping Dalton's experience in captivity will teach him to value his existence more. As it stands, he thinks himself unimportant in the grand scheme of things."

"And if you'd intervened and saved him, it wouldn't have taught him anything," Tuka deduced.

Rory nodded and smiled. "Now you're getting it!"

Well, at least she let him get kidnapped for a reason and not for shits and giggles, the elf mused silently. She still didn't agree with Rory's methods, but she could see the point behind them.

She wondered if the "lesson" would bear any results.

The magical trio were only a few dozen meters away from the West Gate by now. A couple of patrolling Imperial guards paused to look down at them, but relaxed when they saw Rory's familiar figure.

As they approached the front doors, Tuka's sensitive hearing picked up snippets of conversation from the other side of the wall.

"Ugh, this sucks. Just looking at those Imperial Army thugs reminds me of the bandits. I wish those flying beasts would come back and chase 'em all out." A male voice grumbled.

"Easy there, man," a second, deeper voice cautioned. "You don't want those guys up there to hear you, do you?"

"Whatever…"

Rory had no problems pushing the heavy wooden gates open. The three of them entered without any resistance – which, more importantly, also meant no alarm.

"Hey, check it out. It's the priestess and her friends." The second voice from earlier noted.

Tuka glanced to her left at the two militiamen leaning against the wall, smiled, and gave them a friendly wave.

Compared to the South and East Gates, the western side of Italica showed no signs of battle anywhere in sight. Torches placed in wall sconces provided illumination, revealing a pristine courtyard dotted by the occasional waist-high barricade. Five more militiamen, three with torches of their own, kept watch over the open area.

The girls stopped in the center of the plaza. Tuka felt a tap on her right shoulder; when she turned around, Lelei silently mouthed three simple words to her:

 _Go for it._

The blond elf nodded. She lifted her hands, holding them adjacent to one another, and gathered her focus.

Amazingly, a ball of bright, pinkish-purple light began to form in the empty space between her palms.

 _"_ _Spirit of slumber, take these souls with you."_ She chanted. Her voice adopted a noticeable echo, which rang throughout the sparsely populated plaza. _"Allow them to experience true peace and harmony!"_

The orb of light grew larger with each word of her incantation. When she couldn't contain it anymore, Tuka threw her arms up and let the condensed magic disperse.

The resulting display closely resembled a meteor shower. The ball of light fragmented into numerous smaller orbs that rained down throughout the courtyard, homing in on Imperial soldiers and militiamen alike; each time an orb struck them, instead of causing physical harm, it would instantly put the guard into a deep sleep.

She made sure not to target Rory and Lelei, of course.

Once the guards were all in dreamland, Lelei worked to extinguish any dropped torches with small gusts of wind in order to prevent a fire from starting. Meanwhile, Tuka grabbed one of the wall-mounted torches and ascended the rampart's stairs. After she reached the top, she waved it in a vague direction, signaling to her allies that the coast was clear.

She grinned when she saw several blue lights emerge from the tall grass. For a military that favored the direct approach, Gears could be surprisingly stealthy when they wanted. Anyone who wasn't an elf wouldn't have noticed Theta Squad trailing behind them the whole time.

"How come you never told us you could use magic?" Bare asked after they'd all regrouped in the courtyard.

"You never asked!" Tuka giggled in reply.

It was probably best not to mention how the spell had a slight chance of overcharging and knocking someone into a coma. Spirit magic was notoriously difficult to control if the wielder didn't have several hundred years of practice under their belt.

Still, it felt good to be useful for once.

* * *

 **(Formal Mansion Guest Room)**

Private Alec Dalton woke up and shot upright in a split second, heart racing and eyes wild.

"I DON'T WANNA PLAY THE BONDAGE GAME!" he screamed. "…Huh?"

He shakily lifted his hands to his neck, then let out a small grunt of confusion when his fingers touched... bandages? The rope was thankfully gone, though that was only a small mercy at most.

His entire body felt like he'd been run over by an Assault Derrick. His limbs were numb from exertion after running for what felt like miles to keep up with his captors' horses, and the parts that still retained sensation made him wish they didn't. The areas around his joints throbbed with pain, courtesy of a few Rose Knights with blunt weaponry.

He was out of his armor, too, he soon noticed. A quick inspection under the bedsheets revealed he'd been stripped down to his gray boxer briefs. More bandages and pads covered the worst of his injuries from view.

…Wait, bedsheets? What the hell?

He could worry about his missing armor later – right now he needed to figure out where he was and how he'd gotten here. He'd blacked out earlier before he could see any kind of civilization.

Okay. He needed to work with what he knew and go from there. He was in a bed; that much was obvious. A comfy one, too. In fact, he'd never been this cozy before. He entertained the thought of taking the mattress with him when he escaped from-

 _Dammit, Private, focus!_ Dalton chided himself.

How was he going to escape, anyway? He doubted he'd make it very far without weapons and armor. Also, why did his captors leave him in a bed, and not some dark, smelly prison cell? And why did they bother treating his wounds when they'd previously been so eager to hurt him?

The young Gear flopped back down, sighing when his head hit the equally soft pillow. None of this made any sense.

"Umm… are you okay now, Master Dalton?" an unfamiliar female voice suddenly asked.

Dalton immediately went stiff as a board. Trying to ignore the pounding in his aching chest, he slowly moved his eyes in the direction of the voice's owner.

Said owner was a young woman, likely in her late teens or early twenties, with brown eyes and a kind face. She was dressed in a dark blue maid outfit with white frills and a white apron, along with a red neckerchief. Atop her head of shoulder length black hair was a frilly white maid's hat. Her smile, while genuine, looked a bit uncertain for some reason.

 _Probably because you shouted "bondage game", you fucking idiot._

"…Huh?" he repeated dumbly.

"Damn, I guess the princess' knights must've broken his mind along with his body," a second female voice interjected.

A third woman spoke up. "Mamina, don't assume things like that! I'm sure he's just a little confused, that's all."

What the fuck was going on here? None of these people sounded like his tormentors, so who were they?

Finally regaining his bearings, Dalton took a closer look around the room he was in. It was spacious, decorated with a couple of couches, chairs, and paintings of people he didn't know and places he didn't recognize. A large wooden trunk sat in the left corner, while the doors were to his right side. The room's walls were painted a light beige color.

It was a truly luxurious space; far fancier than his room back in Jacinto, and definitely a cut above the barracks at Alnus Station. However, it was the three other women accompanying the black-haired maid that really caught his attention.

Standing closest to the right of her was… _something_. She was dressed in the same outfit as her friend, and if one could ignore how her glossy yellow eyes perfectly matched a snake's, she could've passed for a human… if her long red "hair" wasn't made up of _literal snakes_.

He watched, transfixed and utterly baffled, as the thin serpents lazily swayed in random directions. Only after one of them hissed at him did he finally look away.

The next maid was slightly less of an oddity, but an oddity nonetheless. She had wavy, light brown hair that reached down to her waist, red eyes a shade darker than Piña's, and… rabbit ears. There were actual, god-honest rabbit ears growing out of the top of her head.

Dalton knew a few Gears who would get a real kick out of that. Unfortunately, her long hair prevented him from seeing whether she had a set of normal human ears in addition to the extra ones.

As for the final maid…

 _Holy crap; Rudy was right. There really_ are _catgirls in this world!_

She was easy on the eyes, too. Mostly human in appearance, save for the pair of fuzzy feline ears visible in her mane of purple hair, which was tied back in a high ponytail. She wore a small pair of glasses over her slitted, crystal blue eyes, and rounding out her facial features was a tiny fang protruding from her lower jaw.

The private didn't know what to say. What _could_ he say? He was in a room with four beautiful maids, and at least three of them weren't human. How was he supposed to respond to this?

"…Where am I?" he eventually settled with.

"You're in the mansion of Count Formal!" the first maid happily informed him.

Dalton blinked. "Wait… so that means I'm back in Italica?"

He thought the architecture of the room looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn't remember where he'd seen it until now. In hindsight, it should've been obvious his captors would bring him back to the city their leader was currently staying in.

"You sure are!" the snake-haired woman beamed.

He was about to ask if any of them knew where Piña was, until the catgirl maid daintily walked over to his nightstand and started to prepare some tea from a tea set he hadn't noticed. Dalton's eyes glued themselves to the furry purple tail sticking out from the back of her dress.

"Gyules must never be allowed to see you," he muttered.

The maid turned to look at him, concerned.

"Meow? Is something wrong?" Her voice sounded as soft as her animal parts looked.

Dalton sweat-dropped. "Uh, no. Nothing's wrong." Hastily changing the subject, he said, "That tea smells good, by the way. Did you make it yourself?"

She grinned widely, unveiling more sharp teeth intermixed with her human ones. "I did! Thank you for the compliment, Master Dalton!"

 _A love bite from her could tear out flesh._

This was getting really fucking weird. Not that being in a fantasy world wasn't already weird by itself, but… _still_.

"Does anyone want to explain to me just what the heck is going on?" he asked out loud.

"There's no need to worry." Yet another woman entered the room, smiling as she closed the door behind her. She looked older than the other four, and wore a slightly different set of clothes, though she still carried the air of a servant. "We've been ordered by the princess to give you the best service possible. Regarding the knights who mistreated you, well…" Her smile changed to a wry smirk. "Let's just say they're in the middle of being severely reprimanded."

The woman stopped at the foot of Dalton's bed. She closed her eyes and bowed to him, and the other maids followed suit.

"Your actions have given this town a new life," she stated, "and for this, we are eternally grateful, my lord."

Dalton was ready to point out that she was wrong, that he didn't do much compared to the real heroes like Kipp or Bare, but stopped himself at the last second. Memories of his talk with Lieutenant Reynolds back at base came to mind, along with the advice she'd given him.

 _Learn to take more credit for my actions, huh…?_

"I… It was a group effort, but I'm proud to have helped."

The elder maid straightened herself and clapped her hands together. "So humble!" she praised. Her expression suddenly turned serious. "To assault one of Italica's saviors in the way they did is unforgivable. If you wish to raze this town to the ground, I will gladly assist you in doing so. Those so-called 'noble' brats certainly deserve it…"

"…Excuse me?!" Was he hearing her correctly? Did she really just say she'd help him destroy Italica if he wanted, or had Piña's knights given him brain damage?

"I only ask that you spare our mistress, the Countess," the possibly crazy lady continued, seemingly unfazed by the Gear's clear shock. "Please don't make her part of your retribution. She is only a child, and she looks up to you and your people immensely."

"Why the fuck would I do that?" Dalton blurted out. "I'd never hurt a child! And from what you've told me, this sounds like it was all just a huge misunderstanding. Those knights must not have known about the treaty." He thrust his hands up. "Besides, why would I destroy this place when we worked so hard to save it? My CO would fucking kill me!"

The woman raised a hand of her own to silence him.

"You've made your point, my lord. Thank you for your generosity; it is greatly appreciated." She bowed again.

The black-haired maid moved closer to Dalton to help him sit upright, allowing the catgirl to safely let him sip some tea. Even though he wasn't really a tea person, the hot beverage was still a welcome relief for his aching throat.

"I am Kaine, head matron of the Formal mansion and caregiver to Countess Myui." The older maid introduced herself. "These four will be your personal nurses. Feel free to ask them for anything you need while you're recovering."

All four of the younger maids politely curtseyed.

"You can count on us, Master Dalton! We are more than happy to serve you!" they exclaimed in unison.

A part of him wanted to make a joke about sending one of them to fetch the newspaper. Alas, the printing press hadn't been invented in the Special Region yet, so it would've fallen flat.

"As I said, you may ask them for anything at all." Kaine repeated in a genuinely warm tone.

Dalton pulled the sheets up a bit higher to cover the redness in his cheeks. Anything at all, eh…?

His stomach suddenly growled, making his blush intensify. He awkwardly averted his gaze from the smiling maids. "Uhh… what kind of snacks do you have?"

* * *

 **(Italica Streets)**

Elsewhere in the city, Theta Squad and the local girls were making good time in their mission to find their captured comrade. The streets were totally dark and devoid of life – not unlike most COG cities in the aftermath of a typical Locust invasion.

It was hard to remain stealthy when their bootsteps and jangling weaponry broke the otherwise silent atmosphere, but that didn't stop them from exercising plenty of caution. They'd even developed a pattern: Reynolds nonverbally ordered the team to halt at every intersection, checked to see if the coast was clear, and would give the "all clear" signal when each street invariably ended up deserted. As unlikely as an ambush was to occur, she couldn't rule out the possibility.

After almost forty-five minutes of moving up street by street, the nine of them were finally approaching their goal: Formal mansion. Reynolds hypothesized before the rescue op kicked off that it was the most likely place for Dalton to be held; the local jail was filled to capacity with POWs from the siege, leaving the lavish estate the next best place for the Rose Knights to interrogate their new prisoner.

The invasive mental image of those arrogant little girls sipping wine and laughing while her squadmate was tortured in front of them made the lieutenant's blood boil. Princess Piña better not let anything like that happen, or there would be hell to pay.

It took a few more minutes for them to sneak around the courtyards to the back door. The mansion's interior was well-lit, forcing the group to stay low and avoid the windows lest they notify anyone inside of their presence.

"I don't know if the princess told her knights about the treaty by now," Reynolds whispered once they'd huddled together at the rear patio. "I assume she did, but if anyone comes at us with hostile intent, aim to incapacitate. No killing, am I clear?"

She counted the nods and pretended not to notice when Bare's Mulcher accidentally bumped her side. The big guy alone took up a sizable portion of the patio space.

"Good." Reynolds turned to open the door, then scowled in annoyance when it didn't budge. "Shit… padlocked. Rory?"

The demigoddess giggled. "I'm on it. Step aside, darling." She instructed.

The team gave Emroy's Apostle a wide berth as she brought her mighty halberd to bear. With one vertical swing, she chopped the padlock in half, also somehow managing to avoid leaving even a scratch on the door.

Reynolds nodded in appreciation. Briefly checking to make sure her Retro Lancer was loaded, the squad leader approached the door and kicked it wide open.

* * *

Private Dalton made a satisfied noise while he nibbled on a warm chocolate chip cookie baked fresh from the kitchen, clutching it like an overly possessive hamster. It tasted _divine_. Still not as good as his grandma's, but it was a close second.

He alternated between munching on his treat and sipping his tea, careful not to eat too fast. Kaine had noticed this and further praised him on his knowledge of eating lightly when stressed, going on to state how Princess Piña hadn't known that until recently despite calling herself a warrior.

The way she mentioned the redhead with veiled hostility, as well as her earlier quip about the knights being noble brats, led Dalton to believe that Kaine wasn't a huge fan of the Imperial hierarchy.

He also hadn't known that little tidbit of wartime information either, to be truthful. He just wanted to savor his cookie.

The maid with the bizarre snake hair stood dutifully next to his bedside, cleaning up the stray crumbs that fell on his lap with a napkin. Five-star service at its finest, he thought with a smile. You couldn't get this kind of treatment anywhere on Sera.

Before he could ask for more tea, the bunny girl suddenly stiffened, and her rabbit ears shot up in alarm.

"What's the matter?" Kaine inquired immediately and sternly.

"Someone's at the back door. It sounds like they're trying to force their way in," the brown-haired maid reported.

Dalton stopped chewing.

"Oh, are they now?" To the private's confusion, Kaine appeared completely unfazed by the possibility of a break-in. "More than likely it's Master Dalton's friends coming to save him. If that is indeed the case, you may bring them here. Otherwise…" The head maid adopted the same cruel smirk she wore when describing the Rose Knights' punishment. "You know what to do. Bring Persia with you, just in case."

"Yes ma'am." The bunny woman and catgirl both bowed, then moved to exit the room.

Dalton watched them leave, fascinated. He turned back to Kaine. "Um, excuse me? Are you sure those two can… y'know…?" he trailed off.

Kaine chuckled. "Defend themselves? They are more than capable of holding their own in a fight, I assure you. Mamina is a Warrior Bunny – a race of highly aggressive demi-humans who favor speed and precision in combat. Persia is one of the Nekomimi, or 'cat people' as we humans call them. I've seen her inflict wounds on would-be assassins that never healed."

 _The kitty has claws. Noted. Rudy, if that really is you, please don't do anything stupid to piss her off. I don't care how tough your armor is._

The head maid motioned to the snake girl next. "Aurea here is a Medusa," she continued. "They're quite a rare species; almost as hard to find as the High Elves."

Dalton's curiosity was piqued. The diversity of this world's intelligent species was mind-boggling.

"What about her?" He turned his head to nod at the black-haired maid.

All of the maids he'd seen besides Kaine were clearly only part human, so what could the last one be? Did she have goat legs hidden under her dress? Or maybe bird ones, like the bandit O'Nellis found?

What about a hidden pair of wings? If so, what type? Feathery ones? Ooh, or maybe draconic? What if she was a shapeshifter, disguised as a human to make him lower his guard and hide her hideous true form?! His nerd side was totally freaking out. The possibilities were endless!

"Mome is human." Kaine informed him.

Oh. Bummer.

"The late head of the family was very open-minded, and made it a point to employ species of all varieties," she went on. "You could go as far as to say it was an… _interest_ of his."

She didn't say more than that, and she didn't need to. Dalton got the hidden message loud and clear. Count Formal went out of his way to get these girls jobs and make them feel accepted, so he could understand if the man wanted a little possible "side action" as compensation.

He just hoped Myui never stumbled upon said side action.

Dalton's mental musings were shattered when Aurea's smiling face seemed to materialize right in front of his own. He froze, unsure of what she could've wanted.

"You have a very similar scent to the late head of house, Master Dalton!" she brightly exclaimed.

He didn't pay attention to her compliment because he was too busy focusing on her snakes which were inching closer to him and starting to hiss and _oh god one of them was opening its mouth_ -!

Mome smacked the Medusa on the back of her head. Considering how Aurea's head was covered with living predators, it was the ballsiest move the rifleman had ever seen.

"Aurea! You know better than that!" she scolded.

The other maid slinked away from him; her smile was replaced by a look of remorse. "Sorry…"

"Please forgive her; she did not mean to scare you." Kaine interjected after the injured Gear scooted further away from the snake-haired creature. "Medusas use their hair to drain the life force from their victims, or even transfer memories. Aurea is young and still in training, so while she's usually well-behaved, there are times when her species' natural impulses slip out."

"Noted." Dalton said with a nod. He would've been lying if he said he wasn't a bit spooked, though.

* * *

Once they were inside the mansion, the squad abandoned all pretense of stealth in favor of a sweep-and-clear approach. Bare, Gyules, and Rory took point, closely flanked by Reynolds and O'Nellis. Hutch and Weaver brought up the rear, leaving Tuka and Lelei safely protected on all sides by a wall of armor and guns.

The first plan was to storm the throne room and hopefully find Piña or her knights. Unfortunately, the room was deserted, leaving the Gears and their allies with no other options besides combing the mansion room by room.

Their sweep of the first floor yielded little useful intel. The single noteworthy thing they'd discovered was a length of rope haphazardly stuffed inside a storage closet; one end of the rope was tied in the shape of a noose. It took a couple minutes after they found it to reassure Gyules that it was probably a coincidence, and that burning down the mansion after they found Dalton wasn't a smart idea.

The team was presently working their way down another hallway, though they soon stopped when they noticed a large side corridor to their right. For a home, the place was built like a labyrinth.

Reynolds' head swiveled between the two possible paths. Did they keep pushing forward, or should they make a detour?

…Which part of the mansion were they even in, again? Crap. Getting lost in this maze was the last thing they needed right now.

This would've been so much easier if they had more clues, or at least a map. Hell, she would've settled on interrogating a servant if she could find one, but the house was eerily empty for some odd reason.

Hutch suddenly pointed to the floor.

The lieutenant walked over and crouched down to investigate, brushing her gloved fingers over the hard wood. When she felt an anomaly, her blue eyes widened.

Scratches. There were scratch marks on the floor. She felt them more than she could see them, but upon closer examination, she could make out a few that were visible to the naked eye. They were hard to miss since this particular hallway wasn't lit, but they were there, and they definitely weren't natural.

Bare leaned down to get a look for himself. "Think they dragged him through here?" he whispered.

"Dunno, but it's a start. These look recent." Reynolds whispered back.

She stood back to her full height, keeping a close eye on the floor. Based on what little she remembered of the mansion's interior layout, she guessed the hallway to the right likely led to the foyer, where the knights would've entered from. The throne room wasn't far from the main entrance, so the hallway probably led there too.

The officer surmised that Dalton's captors dragged him from either the front door or the throne room to somewhere else. It wasn't much to go on, but it helped narrow down their search area a bit.

She signaled for the squad to advance forward. After pausing to check a few more rooms – all of them turning up empty – the group approached a large set of double doors that led to the second-floor staircase.

There was light seeping through the cracks.

Reynolds signaled again to Bare, who nodded in understanding. The master sergeant positioned himself in front of the pack, then loudly slammed the doors open, using his machine gun as a battering ram. Theta poured into the small chamber, weapons raised and ready for anything…

…And paused when they saw two young beast women in maid outfits waiting for them.

For a minute, no one spoke.

"…C-C-C-CAT GIRL!" Gyules stammered out.

* * *

None of the Gears could've known it, but Formal Mansion's flooring plan was designed with a mix of practicality and efficiency in mind. The first floor was often the busiest one during daylight hours, with visitors and workers of all social classes pouring in and out of the manor to conduct business, perform housekeeping maintenance, and other important matters. It was because of this that the throne room was built on the lowest floor, since it would allow guests to have the most direct access to the Count or Countess.

The second floor housed the servants' quarters and guest rooms, while the third floor was reserved for the Formal family and visiting nobles. Metaphorically speaking, it was fitting how the ruling class had the top floor for themselves – it was an ever-present reminder to the commoners that the Formal clan, and the Empire by association, was in charge around here.

It was in a third-floor common room that Piña was finishing up explaining to Bozes and Panache that no, the Blue Golems were no longer their enemy and yes, they'd gone and fucked up big time by mistreating one of their soldiers.

"I shouldn't have to explain how serious this transgression is, but at the risk of something _else_ going wrong, I'll do it anyway." The ardent-haired princess crossed her legs and folded her arms, regarding her two nervous subordinates with a cross look. She scowled when she saw Bozes swallow. "I'm sure you've both been told by now how powerful the Coalition is?"

The knights nodded silently.

"Then I can assure you that whatever rumors you've heard about them are true." Piña licked her suddenly dry lips, thinking back to yesterday's massacre. The COG displayed a lot of bravado during that fight, and they unquestionably had enough power to back it up. It still scared the hell out of her. "I watched them tear apart an army of trained bandits in minutes… watched as they made a mockery of everything we know about war." She closed her eyes, sighing in resignation. "It's perfectly clear to me now why we weren't able to drive them out of Alnus…"

Panache was the first to find her voice. "I'm not saying I don't believe you, Princess, but are you sure you aren't exaggerating their strength? The rest of them fled like cowards after we trapped one of their own. They hardly acted as dangerous as you make them out to be."

"Did it not occur to you that they might've left to inform their leaders about the treaty violation?" Piña sniped back.

She felt her teeth grind together when the other knight's jade eyes widened in realization. Gods, how could they be this dense?!

"If the Coalition decides to use this incident to resume the war, the Empire will fall. We can't fight back and they know it. Therefore, the best we can do to prevent another suicidal conflict is convince your little _'_ _prisoner'_ to see things our way."

She pointed at Bozes. "And _you're_ going to do it!"

"Huh? What are you suggesting, Princess?" the blond knight asked, confused.

Piña's face turned stoic. She wasn't proud of her newest plan, if she were honest. However, if she wanted to be absolutely sure that Dalton would stay cooperative after tonight, then it was the only option available… even if it would come at a great personal cost for one of her best friends.

"I want you to give that man your body."

She could almost hear the sound of glass shattering as she observed Bozes' thunderstruck expression. Her second-in-command's irises shrunk to a fraction of their normal size; her mouth was hanging slightly open, though no words came out.

"You were the leader of the group. You are the one directly responsible for endangering his life and violating the treaty." Piña kept her red eyes locked on the blonde as she uncrossed her legs. "This will be your punishment. I'm sorry for making you give yourself to someone as low as Pry-vit Dalton, but we need to show him we're serious about apologizing. This is the only way."

The following silence stretched on long enough that Panache sent the Yellow Rose a worried glance.

Bozes stood as still as a statue, before looking down at the floor, deep in contemplation. The only sound in the room came from her labored breathing.

"I… am the second daughter of the Duke of Palesti," she eventually said, her words coming out slow and rigid. It was clear to the other women that she was speaking as much to herself as she was to them. "As a member of the nobility, I will do whatever it takes to protect our empire. Anything at all, no matter the cost."

She let out a quiet sigh, and her shoulders slackened a bit. "If this is what Your Majesty orders of me, then… I will do it. He won't be able to look at another woman after tonight."

Piña nodded, satisfied. "Go, then. Get yourself ready. And… Bozes?"

The knight was already halfway out the room when she heard her name called. She paused, then turned back around to stare at her superior.

"I really do apologize," the princess said softly. "If there was another way to guarantee his loyalty, I would take it in a heartbeat. But there isn't, and you must be the one to make amends."

Bozes kept silent. She simply nodded before leaving in a haste, shutting the door behind her with more force than necessary.

Piña leaned back in her chair and sighed.

She knew she was taking a serious gamble with this plan. Under no circumstances could she allow her guest to say _anything_ incriminating about what happened earlier; with any luck, he'd be too distracted by Bozes' allure to remember the torture she'd put him through. Or maybe he'd faint. The princess considered herself to be a decent judge of character, and after her few brief interactions with him, she was beginning to suspect that Dalton never felt a woman's touch before. He was far too skittish and uncertain of himself to make the first move.

She was doing him a favor, honestly.

Then what was this strange feeling that plagued her? Why was she already regretting her choice to have Bozes seduce him? It wasn't like this was an unusual tactic – sexual favors were actually commonplace in Imperial society, and they were used for a wide range of reasons, both trivial and urgent.

If Dalton knew anything about how their world worked, he should've counted himself as one of the luckiest prisoners of war who ever lived. Instead of being beaten to death or sold on the slave market, he was being pampered by the finest staff in one of the country's wealthiest estates, all at the behest of the royal princess who _really_ didn't want to anger the rest of his people.

 _So why? Why do I feel so… uncertain?_ Piña sighed heavily, annoyed that she didn't have an answer to her question.

A cough interrupted her musings. Her eyes wandered over to Panache, who was still standing there looking mildly uncomfortable.

"And you. Don't think I've forgotten about you," Piña stated sharply. Probably best not to mention that she did, in fact, forget about the other knight. "Go and get changed as well. If Bozes fails to interest him, then you'll be up next!"

Panache's breath hitched.

"Are you, um… Are you sure I can't help with the chamber pots?" she squeaked fearfully.

A glare from the princess was all the evidence needed to convince the White Rose that she wasn't about to get the easy way out.

* * *

Private Dalton sighed in pure content. Currently he was in the middle of a special treat in the form of a sponge bath from Aurea; it took some convincing from Kaine before he let the Medusa near his side again, but he was glad he'd listened. The soft sensation of the wet sponge gliding over his skin, which hadn't seen a bath since he'd left Alnus, felt _heavenly_.

Mome was hand-feeding him a bowl of hot soup, while Kaine sat on couch across from him, smiling in delight at how much he was obviously enjoying the maids' services. The soldier found himself warming up to the woman. She was pleasant company, and he'd quickly lost track of time chatting with her about her childhood and what daily life in Italica was like.

"Say 'ahhh'…!" Mome held up another spoonful of soup, which he graciously accepted.

"Are you sure I can't take you guys with me back to Alnus?" he asked half-jokingly after swallowing. "The COG could definitely use your services."

Kaine laughed. "I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. My duty is to remain here with Countess Myui and the rest of the Formal clan." The woman shook her head, still chuckling. "Besides, have you already forgotten that your people were granted a permanent presence in this city?"

"Still. Wouldn't hurt to have a few more helping hands."

The head maid opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sudden thundering of a multitude of footsteps outside the room, along with a bunch of familiar voices shouting over each other.

"Geez, man, slow down!"

"Please, Master Gyules, I must kindly ask you not to run in the hallway!"

"What the fuck, Weeb? You finally find a catgirl and now you're just ditching her? What are your friggin' priorities?!"

"BROS BEFORE HOES!"

Private Gyules slammed the door to Dalton's little sanctuary open with a strong kick, entering with his Scorcher at the ready.

"Alec! I came to rescue you, dude! Did they hurt- wait, what?" Alec saw his best friend's jaw drop under his helmet as he took in the scene before him. He stayed frozen even as Theta Squad, the local girls, and the maids poured in behind him, all of them staring at the bedridden Gear with wildly varying expressions.

For the longest time, no one said anything. Dalton soon became aware that Aurea still had the sponge pressed up against his right pectoral. The spoon in Mome's hand hovered only a couple of inches away from his mouth.

"Dalton… what the _fuck_." Lieutenant Reynolds deadpanned.

He smiled awkwardly. "Hey, guys. Umm… I can explain?"

* * *

 **I've been waiting to write this chapter since the very beginning. It was a total blast from start all the way to finish. XD**

 **Keep in mind that Bare's nightmare isn't an exact replica of what he went through in Illima. Did he lose someone close to him to RAAM? Yes. Did he see the eponymous Locust General in person? Also yes.** **However, some details were twisted around to show that he was dreaming – the dissolving Locust should've been proof.**

 **I also want to give Persia a bigger role than she had in canon. She felt like a lot of wasted potential. I've got a few ideas on how to fix that already, so for those of you who ship her and Gyules (and I know at least some of you do), you're in luck!**

 **Fun fact: Gyules' deceased brother is a canon character. Remember the Gear who got torn limb from limb by the Berserker in the first Gears of War? Yeah. That was him.**

 **Other than that, not much else to comment on besides reviews:**

 **Fer82: I agree that Dalton doesn't have the attitude of a Gear, and I'm glad you noticed that the COG has a draft policy. Spoiler: Dalton doesn't think like a soldier because he was never** ** _supposed_** **to be a soldier. Is he breathing? Can he shoot a gun? If the answer to both these questions is "yes", put him on the draft. Who cares is he has trouble adjusting to military life?**

 **As for my reasoning behind Rory not helping him, I think I explained it enough in this chapter. The anime does a terrible job of showing it, but Rory isn't always heroic. She'd let someone get away with murder as long as they believe their cause is justified. She only respects those who have clear ideologies and have faith in their purpose; Dalton is still floundering on his conviction while the Rose Knights aren't, so Rory saw no reason to bail him out. It's tricky to explain in detail, but I hope this helps at least a little.**

 **I'm also pretty much done making him a trouble magnet. Other characters' subplots will start soon, so they'll be the ones getting into bad situations from now on.**

 **headreviewer mk2: You can damn well bet Prescott is going to instill permanent fear of the Coalition into the Special Region visitors' minds.**

 **jaalco: You like Bare? There's plenty more Bare in the future!**

 **Ethan76: You just went into a lot of detail about why the decision I made on a whim (besides making Myui actually** ** _do something_** **) ended up being the perfect choice… I don't know what else to say besides thank you!**

 **The haters: Your scathing reviews make me giggle. :D**

 **Actually… there** ** _is_** **one more thing I'd like to say. I wholeheartedly agree that I've been sticking too close to canon. I've been afraid to experiment, and I often wonder what sort of things I could've done differently to add more of a twist. Wondered how I could get over this fear of mine.**

 **The solution? I'm starting a new story on the side where I can have fun and merge/break canon to my heart's content.** ** _Semper Invicta_** **will still have priority, but I need a way to test new ideas without breaking the groundwork I've so carefully laid out. Expect it to be up sometime soon.**


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